Making a Difference
by Crystal Phoenix Mage
Summary: AU, Dimension Travelling. Just one of those fics everyone gets the urge to write about.
1. Prologue: Chance of a Lifetime

**AN:**

**Alright, I know most you probably expected me to update on Prodigy's Reign but I am reevaluating the plotline of my story. Having not thought about it for more than a year, I must admit that several details escape me, and it will take time before I fully remember them again. At the same time, I am also heavily editing my first book, the Prodigy's Ascension. It has recently occurred to me that many of the changes I made were quite useless and overcomplicated things, serving to only make things harder for you, my readers, to understand, while not affecting the plot. I am also aware of the various errors in grammar and spelling I have made. Hopefully, by the time I finish editing, all these will be removed and creating a more interesting work to read. Fear not, I estimate to finish in less than a month's time.**

**Meanwhile, to keep you guys from getting bored, and to maintain my sanity as I go through the Prodigy's Ascension, I've decided to write a dimensional travel fic. Some of you may have read a story of mine in my early days in fan fiction based on a similar concept. Unfortunately, I had it deleted deeming it as a failed literary project on my part, and therefore, unworthy to pollute our valuable cyberspace. Doubly unfortunate is the fact that I forgot I had no copies of the work saved in my computer either.**

**Now, with a few years of writing experience under my belt, I hope to write an improved work, as well as incorporating some concepts from the old fic I wrote. This will have some pretty big changes though. Do forgive me if it is not terribly creative. It seems to be getting rather harder to come up with new good plot ideas. Heaven knows how many hours I've wracked my brain with seemingly dismal results. And don't worry, this will be a short (well, short for me anyways) story of maybe 25k-35k words or so. Plus, I need some practice in writing dramatic scenes and I figured this would be perfect. But enough of this drabble and more about the story. That's what you are all here for right?**

**Normally, in dimensional travel fics, the beginning scenes are usually about the main character. But let's be honest here, it does get rather boring, so I hope you understand why I used the following scene as an opening instead of the usual "I've lost everything in this world, I'm sooooooo emo" approach some fics use. Without further ado, I present:**

**Disclaimer: I Don't Own HP**

**Making a Difference**

**Prologue: Chance of a Lifetime**

**Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, December 3, 2010**

"Come along, John. We should be getting back to the hotel. We can't leave your Mommy waiting for long." Jared said, taking the little boy's hand into his own.

John looked up at his dad's face, pouting. Sweat was accumulating on his forehead and his brows knit together in frustration. Growing up in Wales, he was not used to the heat. The fact that he was currently on vacation in Brazil during their summertime increased the discomfort the boy was feeling. Shooting a longing glance at a nearby Ice Cream cart, he felt himself being led away by his father. The nefarious jingle the cart was playing seemed to tease him with every note, as if _tempting _him. All-in-all, it was a perfect case of something being so near, yet so far.

Placed under such conditions, he did what any normal four year old child would do. He went towards the ice cream. In doing so, he didn't seem to acknowledge that his father was holding his hand and moving in the opposite direction. According to Physics, there was only one possible outcome from that particular action in that particular scenario.

As the child stepped towards the cart, a simultaneous tug from his otherwise unaware father knocked him off balance, causing him to fall squarely on his bottom. Jared looked back in surprise to see his son on the floor while tears threatened to flow down from his already moist eyes. He knelt down beside his son, hoping to calm him before he made a scene. "It's alright John, Daddy's here. Don't cry." Those words didn't seem to have much of a calming effect on his son as tears began to flow down his face. Desperate, Jared looked around for anything that might calm down his son enough to get them moving again. Conveniently enough, his eyes locked onto the ice cream cart his son had been eyeing earlier. "Don't cry, John. Tell you what, Daddy will be you some ice cream. Will that make the pain go away?" Jared asked. Smiling, the father saw his son nod, knowing his son's love for the dairy product. Leading his son towards the cart, his hands reached for his wallet.

John, happy, that he was going to get ice cream, brightened up considerably and wiped away the tears from his eyes. As befitting of any boy his age though, his eyes soon began wandering around in curiosity, taking in his surroundings. Across the street, he rested his eyes on the sight of a man standing in the corner of a building with mesmerizing green eyes. To his surprise, the man shifted his attention to him as well. Then, suddenly, the man winked at John, just before a bus passed by, breaking their stare off. What shocked the little boy the most, however, was that the man had simply _vanished _as soon as the bus stopped being a hindrance to his line of sight.

Slightly miffed, he looked a bit to the left and right to see if the man had walked away. To his dismay, not a trace of the man was in sight. He tried to remember what the man looked like, but found that he could not. His brows furrowed together and his eyes squinted as he tried to remember something about the man, but found to his annoyance that he could not. Determined, he attempted to picture the most striking detail of the man, his eyes, and found that _he could not. _Desperate now, he tried even harder to remember something, anything about the man, but the longer he tried, the less he seemed to remember. As if his memories of the encounter were forcibly being erased from his mind. The very thought was disturbing. Just then, his dad handed him the ice cream he had been longing for not quite long ago. Delighted, the boy licked away happily at the refreshing piece of flavored dairy. With his attention now focused on something new, all thoughts about the man disappeared, never to return.

Any other effect on the boy would have sorely disappointed Harry Potter. He was acclaimed by many as the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Crusader, the-Boy-with-far-too-many-hyphens-in-his-title (this one was Harry's particular favorite), and as of recently, the Bane of Death. He may have used magic sparingly in the last few years, but it certainly wouldn't do if he couldn't even cast a powerful enough Know-Me-Not charm to make the child forget him. A slightly more powerful variant of the Notice-Me-Not charm, it also had an added effect of making the target forget any memories they had of the caster. Of course, this only worked if the two of you had only very limited interaction. Otherwise, the more devastating Mind Wipe spell would be required to make the victim lose his memories.

Satisfied his charm had done the job after a quick, but unobtrusive, mind probe, Harry made his way inconspicuously into a hotel. Sure enough, sitting at the lobby a few feet away from where he stood was one Nicholas Flamel, staring at him expectantly. Risking a glance at his watch, Harry cursed himself when he saw the time. "You're late." Those two words made Harry fidget and the design of the marble floor suddenly looked exquisite to him. "Surely," Nicholas started again, crossing his arms, "there must have been some _world changing_ event that delayed your arrival."

"You know the usual rot. Arresting a Dark Lord here, slaying a Nundu there, and banishing some demons back to hell while on my way back." With a casual shrug, he continued. "It was nothing special."

"Did you at least use the proper Runic Composition this time to banish that nuisance?" Flamel asked. His face unchanged.

"Of course I did. What do you take me for?" Harry scoffed indignantly. A stony silence met him. "Heaven knows that the world would be doomed if I didn't lock up those pixies properly." Both men exploded in laughter at the inside joke, gaining them strange looks from everyone else in the lobby. Seeing this, Harry continued. "Don't you think we should take this somewhere more private?"

"Alright, to my room it is then." Flamel said, standing up and casting a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself. Harry followed suit. As if telepathically communicating, they apparated at the same time to Flamel's room in the hotel. "Do you know why I called you here?"

Harry raised a brow at that. "You're being rhetorical right?"

"Of course I am. Really now, I always did say that they should teach more Grammar and Literature in those bloody magic schools. The way things are, magical folk barely know the difference between 'there', 'they're' and 'their'. It's appalling to think that children these days are barely literate. Now, stop interrupting me and let me finish."

"You paused. I thought you were seriously waiting for a reply." Harry said.

"I was pausing for dramatic effect! Don't you young ones know the importance of dramatic effect?"

"Is that also supposed to be rhetorical?"

"What do you think?" He said, drawling out the words.

"I think you're screwing with my head."

"I'm glad that you are aware of that fact. Now let me finish."

"But you pa-"

"Dramatic effect, I say! Now, where was I?" Flamel asked.

"..."

He frowned. "Aren't you going to answer me?"

"I would, but you would just yell I'm interrupting and ruining the 'dramatic effect' you are so fond of." Harry pointed out.

"Blast it to the seven hells! Kids these days don't know the difference between rhetoric and question." He muttered under his breath.

"Nicholas, this conversation is getting pointless and a tad bit tedious, wouldn't you say? Now enough with the mind screwing and grammatical concerns. I swear you're turning more into a Grammar Nazi with each passing day."

Nicholas pouted. "Fine, spoil an old man's fun. And for the record, I am nothing like those Grammar Nazis you speak of. My skills are vastly superior to theirs. But back to why I asked you here. Do you know how long I've lived?"

Harry frowned at the pointless question, fearing his former teacher had gone senile. "Have you finally cracked, Flamel? I told you that drinking too much Elixir of Life was bound to affect your mental capabilities but _nooooooo_, you just had live for another couple millennia didn't you?" He growled. "And to answer your question you turn six hundred and nineteen two months from today."

"I have not - how did you put it - 'cracked'. In fact, my mental capabilities have never been better. I've been around for a very long time, Harry. Care to take a guess what I've been doing with all my spare time?"

"Sleeping?" Harry provided unhelpfully.

"Try again."

"Thinking up of ways to torture me?"

"A worthy pastime, but don't flatter yourself thinking bothering you is all that I think about."

"Trolling on the internet and being a general pain to everyone while at the same time showing your _superior_ grasp on the English language?"

"Nice try, but you can do better."

"9gag, 4chan and the like?"

"As of late, more frequently, but again, not all my time."

"Time travel? Dimension hopping? Plotting of ways to take over the underworld." Flamel smiled at Harry.

"Dear God! You're planning to overthrow Hades? And you didn't bother asking me to help you? I should feel insulted." Harry said, puffing his chest.

"Maybe next time I'll invite you for a cup of tea while we think of ways to destroy the hell spawn. But lately, I've been more focused on the former two you mentioned."

Harry's eyes doubled in size. "You're serious aren't you? And don't turn this into a serious-Sirius joke." Harry said, involuntarily shuddering at the time the man had decided to come up with the concept then process to use it ceaselessly for the next three years. It had been a living nightmare of bad jokes.

"But, my dear boy, you make it all too easy for me to mock you. And yes, I'm quite serious."

"Well, have you succeeded? Have you actually travelled to another dimension?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Please, what do you take me for? Dimension Hopping was so last century. I must have done it a dozen times by now." Flamel said.

"And you chose only now to share this with your beloved-"

"Sorry, but Perenelle has that place." Flamel interrupted.

"Fine, your favorite-"

"Uh, sorry to burst your bubble, but that would have to be Alexandria Slytherin."

"Oh you wound me with your words. Very well, you're _most recent_ student." Harry said, daring him to challenge that statement.

"Actually," Harry's eyes widened in shock, "that spot does belong to you." Flamel finished, smiling cheekily. "And from what I've learned in my experiences of Dimension Hopping, there are three laws I've determined that govern it. First, no two dimensions are completely alike. Some have only miniscule differences, some are of epic proportions, but there is always something different. At this time, there are about nine hundred and seventy eight dimensions. There used to be more, but the inhabitants of some places are really so inept they've managed to blast themselves from the entire quantum universe.

"Second, no two versions of an individual may exist at the same time in the same dimension. Usually, magic compensates by displacing the other version of you to your dimension. Of course, this only applies to the conscience, not the physical body." Flamel paused. "Although there are some cases where a version of you does not exist in the dimension either because you have died or were never born, in which case, there is no problem."

"That's great, but what does this have to do with me?" Harry asked.

"Well, I have been…observing the dimensions for quite some time now, maintaining the balance of the universe and all that. And I noticed recently that one of these dimensions is in a rather dangerous state. If it follows the path it's on now, it will certainly implode. It's not critical yet, but someone must interfere to change its course before it's too late. Someone that must be strong, brave, likeable, and above all, able to control his fate." Suddenly locking eyes with Harry, Flamel smiled. "Someone like you, Harry."

Harry considered it for a moment, before answering. "Why don't you go instead then? You have more experience, after all, you said so yourself. You've done it a dozen times."

Flamel snorted at him, and scoffed at the very idea. "Well, for one, I'm not as young as I was a hundred years ago. Immortality is impossible, even through the use of the Philosopher's Stone. All that achieves is a very prolonged preservation of the body. But Death is the great equalizer, as they say, and even I cannot escape from its clutches indefinitely. Perhaps another two hundred years more if I push my luck. Secondly, the experience would be wasted on me. Let someone else worthy get this once in a lifetime opportunity. And thirdly, someone has to properly take care of the version of you that gets stuck here. I doubt you would want to deal with the Nicholas Flamel of their dimension." Suddenly getting serious, he continued. "After all, he makes even more serious-Sirius jokes then I do."

Harry involuntarily shuddered. _That's a very serious consideration. _Harry thought. "Alright, but before I decide, you said there were three laws. What's the third?"

"The more times one shifts dimensions, the more unpredictable the destination becomes. The first one is always spot on. But the second one decreases accuracy by half. The third decreases that by a further half and so on and so forth. The more you shift dimensions, the more changes you cause. The more that happens, the less connection there is linking your versions. Things become more sporadic, the universe degenerates faster. I traveled a dozen universes, not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice. It was pure chance that I happened to return to my home dimension.

"By that time, I was so disoriented I had no idea it was the right one until six months in. I lost twenty years of my life travelling the universe, fixing what I could. I do not wish to impose this on you, but that is another reason why I cannot go. It may very well be a hundred years before I can finally reach that dimension. I might never even make it by how sporadic my travels are bound to be. You should think through this carefully before deciding Harry." Flamel said, being serious for the first time since their conversation had started.

Harry thought it over, before replying. "I'll do it. I was getting tired of talking to you anyway. And you are the only friend I have left in this planet. Perhaps I'll make more in the next." Harry said, smiling. Try as he may, nothing got past Flamel's eyes anymore, at least, not in the last century or two. The pain was evident in those emerald eyes, and the smile was hollow, lacking its normal warmth. Flamel knew all too well why that was the case.

The cost of war on their world had been devastating. Half a million people had died before the war finally ended, there were millions more dead from the various magical races. Ten batches of successive Hogwarts alumni wiped out and Britain's magical population was literally halved. Harry had plunged himself into helping his country recover from the horrors of war, engaging in all sorts of humanitarian work, leaving himself no time to mourn his loss. He worked until he collapsed from exhaustion and the process slowly killed the boy, until Flamel stepped in and began to guide the boy. He gave him just enough work so that he would have much to think about, but not to the point where the boy damn near killed himself again.

"Some things you should know before plunging into the world." Flamel said, taking out a notebook he had in his pockets. Opening it, he began. "Your parents are still alive, there is a version of you, dying in the hospital, almost twelve years old. The boy seems to be about ready to pass away. Well, that means you can take over his body, and he'll pass on. You have I believe, a sister of eleven and a brother of ten. Neville Longbottom seems to be the boy-who-lived here, interesting. Not sure how that factors into your odds of offing the man. What else…oh yes, Voldemort seems to be a lot smarter in this world than ours, and a tad less violent. Pettigrew apparently didn't turn, Dumbledore's alive, Black's got a family! Never thought I'd see the day…Lupin's alive…you know what? Blast this, here take it." Flamel said, handing Harry the notebook. "Bloody things worthless to me anyway. You'll do more good with it. Anything you want to bring before going?"

"Well I brought my wand. That's about it. Do you think I should bother emptying my vaults?" Harry asked.

"No need. If you ever need something, I could always send it to you." Harry looked at him quizzically. "Well you don't think I'm going to just stop monitoring you, do you? I'll be able to see and hear anything you allow me to see and hear while you're there." Flamel said, walking over to an orb shaped device sitting on one of his tables. Tapping it with a wand, he muttered various incantations. Slowly, the mist inside the orb disappeared, revealing a boy lying on a bed. He was deathly pale and still. And then, Harry realized, it was himself he was seeing.

"We have little time left, Harry. Here, drink this potion." Flamel said, handing him a vial. At the same time, and in a feat of unprecedented multitasking, the Alchemist began drawing different runes in the air with both hands while chanting at the same time. Harry recognized a few of the runes, having been taught the rudimentary basics himself, but he was nowhere near the level Flamel was. Being unable to decipher more than few runes, Harry sighed, looked at the vile liquid in his hands and downed it in one go, cringing as he did.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Harry? This is your last chance to back out." Flamel called out.

"You've taught me a lot Nicholas, but I can't stay here. Not after knowing that I could have done something to prevent their deaths somewhere else. I failed them in this dimension. I won't fail again." Harry paused, blinking. "You've been like a father to me. You took me in and took care of me when no one else bothered to. You taught me all you know. I will never forget you, Master." Harry said bowing. The first time he had done so in many moons.

Flamel returned the bow. "And you have been like a son to me. Don't tell Alexandria this…but actually you are my favorite apprentice." The sorcerer said, smiling and getting a bit teary as he watched his surrogate son leave. It would perhaps be the last time he ever saw him again. Unable to suppress his emotions, he surged forward to embrace his student for one last time. "You are absolutely sure of doing this aren't you?"

Harry smiled as his master worried he had been too hasty. Unable to resist a last laugh, he said, "I swear you're getting sentimental on me. I haven't even left yet and already you miss me." He grinned, before becoming serious once again.

"It's time for a change. I could make a real difference in this dimension and after all this is a once in a lifetime chance."

And with a blinding flash of light, Harry James Potter, Master-of-the-Really-Long-and-Overly-Hyphenated-Ti tles was gone from this world.

Forever.

**Alright, I hope you guys liked it. Please feel free to use and abuse the review button below.**


	2. First Contact

**AN: Alright, here's my next chapter.**

**Chapter 1: First Contact**

**Dimension 731, August 23, 1992…**

Healer Owen Kane was a man of talent; that no one could refute. Graduating at the top of his class from Hogwarts, he then proceeded to devote himself to the practice of Healing, going as far as to specialize in magical muscle diseases. It was a career few ventured in, and even fewer succeeded in due to the intense training and stress that came with those in the profession. However bad healers may have had it, specialists had it three times worse. Normal healers had to deal with spell damage and curses; a specialist had to deal with shattered bodies, scarred souls, and comatose children as well as their grieving, heartbroken families.

Healer Owen sighed heavily. _Speaking of heartbroken families, it's time to break the bad news. _He thought grimly. One of the stresses that came with job was seeing others die slowly and being unable to do anything about it. Despite his power and skill, he wasn't God. He could only do so much, but sometimes…sometimes the damage was irreparable.

He stole a glance at one of his unfortunate patients, one Harry James Potter. He had been afflicted with a severe case of Reaper's Mark four year's ago, but due to the lateness of the symptoms appearing, he had only been admitted October of last year. By then, the disease had developed into a serious case. The disease was a parasitic one, leeching off the body. It would continue doing so until the victim was either able to fight off the disease, which became more unlikely as time passed, or died. A week ago, the boy had entered stage three of the disease. The odds did not look good.

There were four stages to the disease. The first stage resulted in leeching off the body's energy slowly until the body's immune system had been weakened sufficiently. This stage was usually undetectable, but easily curable. Stage two caused atrophy of the appendages, causing a victim to become less and less capable of movement until they were permanently constrained to a bed. Stage three was when the convulsions started, usually resulting in coma for most victims, as the disease and a wizard's magical core began fighting for dominance in the body. At this point, no medicine or magic could help, and it became mostly up to a person's will to live to survive. The most one could do was attempt to delay the progress of the disease. Stage four was when the immune system was completely shut down, followed promptly by death. Nobody ever survived stage four.

"Alice, please call in the Potters." Owen instructed. A witch in her twenties nodded to him before doing as she was told. A minute later, she came back with two very concerned parents at her heels.

"Healer Kane how is our son's condition? Is…is he going to make it?" Lily asked worriedly.

Owen frowned. "I'm going to be honest with you Mrs. Potter. Your sons already in stage three, and from what our charts indicate, on the verge of stage four. The odds don't look good. He may very well die within the day." Lily cried out in despair, while James tried to comfort his wife by hugging her.

BEEP! BEEP!

Owen's eyes widened as he heard the danger alarm ringing. Instantly, he sprang into action, waving his wand over the immobile body with rehearsed movements. Moments later, he was joined by two of his apprentices, frantically attempting to stabilize the boy's condition. Another apprentice appeared soon, helping James Potter hold back the distraught mother.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Owen cursed silently as the familiar three note warning reverberated throughout the room. A trickle of sweat rolled down his face as a result of the intense spell casting. In a desperate attempt to prolong the boy's life, he pointed at his patient's forehead, muttering a stasis charm to stop the body's rapid deterioration. Owen kept funneling magic into the charm until he was confident that Harry had been stabilized momentarily.

Releasing a sigh of relief, he took a step back and breathed in deeply while his apprentices watched over the boy in his place. Owen was about to leave him in their capable hands when he felt it happen. His charm had suddenly been broken! Readying himself to renew the charm at the first sign of further deterioration, he gripped his wand tighter in anticipation.

The alarm never sounded.

"I don't understand. By all accounts, he should be in a relapse right now." Owen muttered. "Alice, check the Diagnostic Charm. Jane, check his vitals."

"Healer Kane what's going on?" James asked.

"I'm not sure. Your son's not following the normal pattern of a relapse. I've never seen anything like this." Owen answered honestly, wracking his mind for an explanation to this anomaly.

"Diagnostic Charm is working fine Sir!"

"Vitals are improving. He seems to be recovering!"

"Check his brain for any damage." Owen instructed as he began examining his patient more closely.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Healer. My cerebral functions are fine."

Owen jumped back in surprise. His comatose patient just woke up. _What the Bloody Hell is going on. This shouldn't even be possible. _"You're awake!" He exclaimed. The shock wasn't only limited to him as his apprentices began whispering amongst themselves. "How do you feel? Do you know where you are?"

Harry smiled weakly. "I feel sore." Tilting his head experimentally to either side, he continued answering. "The walls here are awfully white. I'd wager I'm in St. Mungo's. That's the only place I know of with blindingly white walls."

Owen nodded, writing down some observations on a piece of parchment that magically found its way in his hands. "What's the last thing you remember before waking up?"

Harry frowned. "I…I don't remember."

Now, it was Owen's turn to frown. "Do you know what date it is?" Harry shook his head again. Owen signaled to James and Lily to come closer. "Do you know who these two people are?"

Harry shifted his eyes slightly to examine the newcomers. His eyes widened slightly as he saw them.

"M-m-mum? D-dad?"

Lily hugged him, tears of joy trailing down her face. "Thank goodness you're awake! I thought I'd lost you!" Harry fidgeted, uncomfortable with the sudden display of emotions.

Owen interrupted the reunion. "You must be feeling very tired right now, Harry. Take this potion, it will help you sleep." Seeing him frown, Owen continued. "Don't worry, you're parents will still be here when you wake up. But right now, you need to rest. The more you rest, the faster you'll recover."

Harry hesitated, not wanting to delay getting to know his family. But he realized that the Healer's would just send them away if he didn't comply. Besides, he really y did feel tired. Who knew Dimension Hopping could be so exhausting?

Harry nodded reluctantly to acknowledge the Healer's words, before taking a sip of the potion offered to him and promptly slipping into unconsciousness.

Owen sighed, turning to speak to Lily and James. "His recovery is nothing short of miraculous. I've never heard of any case like this before. By his reactions today, I think he'll be a bit disoriented and forgetful for a couple of weeks."

"How forgetful? Are we talking about amnesia?"

"I'm not sure how serious. He just awoke from a coma and his core had been destabilized for an extended period. Judging from his reactions, I don't he'll forget everything in his life, but he may be fuzzy on details."

"Is there any chance for the disease to come back?" James asked.

Owen shook his head. "It's possible but highly unlikely. His body is already beginning to heal itself even without our aid. As long as he gets sufficient bed rest and doesn't do anything strenuous for the next few weeks, he should be fine."

Now it was Lily's turn to ask a question. "When can he come home with us?"

"He should be stable enough to transport home by next week. However, he'll be in a wheelchair for a long time. The disease did quite a number on him, and his muscle mass has deteriorated to dangerous levels. He needs a lot of nutrition right now, but his digestive system can't handle anything but liquids for a month. Potions should be fine, though. In addition, he needs to come in for regular checkups every week. I would also suggest looking into some Enhancement Treatment to help him recover his ability to walk."

"Enhancement Treatment? I've never heard of that before." James stated.

"I'm not surprised. It's a kind of treatment developed recently. It uses magic to enhance muscles for short periods of time, allowing a crippled person to gain temporary motor function. It speeds up the process of regaining use of muscle groups."

"Are there any risks involved?"

"Not that I am aware of."

James nodded. "Thank you for your time, Healer Kane. We'll look into it."

On the bedside table lay a little back book that lay unnoticed.

**Two days later…**

"How are you feeling today, Harry?" A healer asked, coming in to the room.

Sitting up on his bed, Harry replied. "I feel a lot better today. In fact, I've improved so much I think you should let me go home."

The Healer looked at him exasperatedly. "We've been over this, Harry. Healer Kane hasn't given you a clear bill of health yet. Until then, you have some visitors." Alice informed him, opening the door to let said visitors enter.

A lean, black-haired boy with green eyes and glasses rushed in. At a closer look, Harry realized that, aside from the glasses, he had an uncanny resemblance with this boy. Following him was a fair-skinned girl with raven hair, and piercing black eyes who walked in strides. Bringing up the rear were Lily and James. It was then, seeing all of them together, that Harry realized the two children were his siblings. According to Flamel's notebook, the girl's name was Anna, while the boy's was Edward.

"How are you holding up in here, bro?" Edward asked, casually plopping himself onto the foot of the bed.

"I feel like I'm going to go blind soon." Edward stared at him questioningly. "The walls are too bloody white!" Harry explained, grinning, which Edward replied to with one of his own.

"Harry, mind your language!" Lily chided, though the corner of her lips quivered upward. It was just too difficult to get mad at someone while they were checked in into a hospital.

"So dad, do you know when they're letting me out of here?" Harry asked.

"The Healer said in a few days" was the reply.

"Care to be a bit more specific?"

"Well, if you promise to behave and get plenty of rest, you should be fit enough by Friday."

"Friday? That's like forever away!"

"It's three days." Anna drawled, finally joining the conversation.

Harry nodded fervently, as if her words vindicated him. "I can't stay here that long. I'll go mad! Or blind!"

"You never know. You could get lucky and go mad _and _blind." Edward piped in.

"I don't think he needs to stay here any longer for the former to happen, if what he's doing right now is any indication." Anna quipped.

"You're right. Maybe all those potions he's been taking has been speeding up the process?" Edward said.

Harry glared at them, puffing up his chest indignantly. He was about to retort when he was cut off by his mom. "Edward, Anna, stop teasing your brother." Lily said.

Harry smirked triumphantly at his siblings, which promptly vanished with the next few words that left her mouth. "Harry, stop being so dramatic about this. You're in a hospital, and the people here need to rest."

"I'm one of those 'people' that 'need to get rest'." Harry pointed out, hoping it would earn him some sympathy. His hopes were dashed when he heard his mother's response.

"Quite right, we'll see you in three days then. And Harry, Do try to behave." She motioned to the other three Potter visitors to follow. "Come along kids, James." The trio scampered after the redhead.

Cursing his luck, Harry whipped out Flamel's notebook and continued reading where he last left off. He needed to be aware with the differences between this world and his. It would be seriously awkward trying to explain to people who knew him why he didn't know them. Harry wanted to avoid that as much as possible.

**Friday…**

"Yes!" Harry cried out, pumping his fist into the air, as the Healer who was pushing his wheelchair ignored him. "I'm free! You know Alice, I'm really going to miss you and Healer Kane." Harry said.

"Really?" She asked disbelief evident in her voice.

"Of course," Harry nodded vigorously to emphasize his point, "I mean who else am I going to bother when I'm bored?" He grinned as she scowled at him.

"I hope you realize that you were an utter pain to deal with, Mr. Potter. I think I much preferred you when you were admitted, it was a lot quieter then." She said matter-of-factly. "Now you're starting to make me regret saving your life."

Harry pretended to look hurt. "You wound me with your words, Alice. Don't worry, I know your secret. You really prefer me as I am. After all, how many days do you get to meet incredibly witty – and charming might I add – wizards?"

"That statement is debatable." She muttered. "You do realize, Mr. Potter, that you are currently handicapped. And if you should continue to keep bothering me with your incessant words, I might very well hex you."

"Oh you wouldn't do that to me Alice. I know you like me far too much." Harry answered cheekily. "Besides, aren't you forgetting about the Hypocrites Oath?" He said.

"It's the Hippocrates Oath, you brat."

"Same difference." He said indifferently. She shot him a glare that said "If you don't shut up I will throw you into the fireplace and eat popcorn while I watch you burn". Unfortunately, it did not achieve the desired effect as he grinned lazily at her, seemingly urged on by her evident irritation.

"Thank God we're here." She said, parking the wheelchair by the receptionist's desk.

"Don't worry, Alice. We'll still be seeing each other regularly. My parents signed me up for Enhancement Treatment, and Healer Kane said you'd be overseeing me." He said cheerily. It only served to make the Healer storm off.

Anticipating his release, he looked on curiously, as his dad filled up some forms and handed it to the receptionist. Pushing Harry a distance away, he made him grab onto a piece of rope. Harry noticed his father muttering something and saw the rope glow a strange hue of blue.

His eyes widened as he realized the implication of the two things_. God I hate portkeys! _Was the last thing he could think of before he was frisked away abruptly and very violently.

**AN: Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review**


	3. Transitioning

**Chapter 2: Transitioning**

**Potter Manor, August 29, 1992…**

Harry sat in his wheelchair and stared gloomily into the lit fireplace in his room. He smiled grimly as he heard the grandfather clock's chimes ring nine times. It had been exactly twenty-four hours since he had been released from St. Mungo's. It had been exactly one week since he had arrived in this world.

He twirled his wand lazily in one hand, while the other reached out to close the notebook resting on his lap. He had just finished deciphering the horrid handwriting of his mentor. Aside from Flamel's observations about the differences between this dimension and his own, there were also side notes on possible changes he may have had to adapt to.

Deciding to test the validity of these notes, Harry extended his right arm towards the flames, willing it to grow bigger. Harry frowned when the flames refused to grow in stature. He lowered his hand reluctantly and reread his master's notes.

"_It is a possibility that certain abilities one may possess will be lost upon entering a new dimension. The reason for this is that one's magical core and magical abilities are connected to the physical body and not the consciousness. As a result, Dimension Travelers may find themselves magically weaker or stronger, while at the same time gaining and losing some abilities. Fortunately, the knowledge one has gained stays with them as they travel, foregoing the need to relearn how to cast magical spells and such. Practice may be required to become accustomed to the different magical core strength though."_

_Apparently, the Harry of this world wasn't born with any Elemental Abilities. _Harry thought sadly, more than a little disappointed he had lost one of his more powerful skills. With a sigh, he flicked his wand towards the fire, and watched as the flames suddenly fizzled out. _At least I don't have to relearn everything though. That would be such a hassle. And I suppose it's better I know now rather than later._

Harry turned his head to stare out a nearby window, taking in the beautiful scenery outside the Manor. In the distance, he could see the distinct outline of a mountain. According to his father, its name was Griffin's Spire, and it formed the northernmost boundary of the Potter Estate. Harry eyed it longingly, wishing he was able to go and explore it. Harry could only imagine what invaluable things he could acquire from the area, and then shifted his gaze to his own legs sadly.

_According to the Healers, I won't be able to regain full use of my legs for a year. _He thought sighing as he realized his mobility was limited for now. _And as a result of my disabilities and my recent illness, my parents have decided to wait until next year before I shall return to Hogwarts._He thought bitterly._ This isn't right. I'm wasting precious time here._

He shot one last glance at the window, before flicking his wand at the fireplace, reigniting the embers

_It's time to begin my training._

"Sculpta!" Harry murmured, bringing his wand to eye level. He observed as the tip turned a radiant yellow, examining it closely, before shifting his attention to the opened tomes in front of him.

"_Fyr is the Rune of Power. The first Rune an apprentice of our Art must learn by heart. It can be used for a variety of purposes, is extremely flexible and is easily manipulated. Its function, in the broadest scope, is to store energy, whether ambient (passive) or initiated (active). Without Fyr, there is no power. And without power, Runes are just strange drawings."_

Harry meticulously studied the picture of the Rune, carefully following each stroke. It took him nearly a dozen tries before he was able to draw something that looked anything near the rune. Eager to test it out, he tapped the drawing with his wand still lit.

Flickers of blue light started to envelop the rune. Harry grinned and attempted to channel more energy into the rune. And of course, there was only one possible outcome for funneling that much energy into a poorly drawn rune.

The paper it was on promptly burned.

"Maybe I should practice on perfecting the drawing before attempting to power things up…" Harry muttered, grabbing another sheet of paper to draw on. Practice makes perfect, as they say.

* * *

**St. Mungo's, September 5, 1992...**

"Good morning, Alice! Might I say you look especially _lovely_ today?" Harry greeted cheerfully. He was met with a groan from the Healer who was still enjoying her "Potter-free time" as she liked to call it.

"You're not supposed to be here for another half an hour." She growled.

Harry frowned. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're not happy to see me, Alice." Then, he grinned at her. "What's the matter? Didn't you miss me?"

"Do me a favor, Mr. Potter, and do _shut up_."

"Ah, but then how would I be able to express my innermost feelings to you?" She growled again. "But anyways, I'm here to offer you a proposal of sorts."

"The promise to never speak to me again under pain of death?" She asked hopefully, her eyes sparkling at the thought. Her hopes were instantly dashed by his reply.

"No. I want you to teach me how to use the Enhancement Treatment by myself."

She frowned at him, pursing her lips. "And why exactly would I teach an insufferable boy like you something like that? I mean I don't even _like_you."

"Exactly, I despise this hospital. You despise me annoying you. If you teach me the treatment method, than I'll recover faster. And if I recover faster…"

"You spend less time here annoying me." She finished, smiling as she finally understood his train of thought. "And if I choose not to teach you? I mean talking to you is hard enough, much less _teaching _you."

"If," Harry started, "you do not teach me, I figure I'll just try harder at annoying you. You'll eventually crack, or I'll eventually heal." He shrugged noncommittally. "Either way, its no trouble for me. But, if you promise to teach me, I promise I'll stop bothering you for the remainder of my stay."

She eyed him curiously. "It's a deal, Potter."

"I knew you'd see it my way."

"Shut up. Now, the first thing you have to do is to learn how to directly access you're magical core. Got that?" Seeing him nod, she continued. "Next, you have to draw a small amount of magic and channel it into each of your muscles. You may use your wand to do so at first, though with practice, you should be able to accomplish this without one."

Harry frowned. "Where exactly are my muscles? And how do I transfer the magic?" He asked, feeling rather stupid.

"Accio Anatomy Book." A book from the shelf behind Harry flew out, thwacked him in the head, and reached Alice's waiting hand.

Rubbing his head, he glared at her, while she smiled innocently at him. "I thought Healers were supposed to help people heal, not try to cause further_damage_?" He asked scathingly.

"Oh, I am trying to help you heal. There's clearly something wrong with your head so I decided to treat you with a good thwack." Her smile grew even wider. "Now stop complaining, Grasshopper, and figure out where your muscles are." She threw the back –rather forcefully might I add- onto his lap.

Harry winced as it nearly hit him in a particularly sensitive spot. Shooting the Healer one last glare, he flipped the book open and began studying its contents. "You know," he started, not even taking his eyes off of the book, "you're awfully violent for a Healer. I thought you'd be a bit more gentle now that I'm _offering_ to do your job for you."

"Just figure out how to do the Treatment. I have other patients waiting."

"I'm a patient too, you know."

She nodded. "Yes, but you're an annoying one. Now, double time Potter. I want you out of my office in the hour."

Cursing the Healer, Harry tapped each of his legs in four distinct areas, namely, the Quadriceps, the Hamstrings, the Calves, and the Tibialis Anterior. "Very good, Potter. I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're actually a decent student when you're not talking. Now, try standing up."

Harry used both his arms to push himself of the wheelchair. Clumsily, he fell face first into the floor as he let go. "If you can't stand up with your feet alone, try using more magic." Alice suggested. Her voice was filled with mirth as she saw her nemesis in pain.

"You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?" Harry snapped, before doing as he was told. _My entire body's going to be sore after this. _Harry thought, wincing as he rubbed one of the bruises from his fall. _This is going to be a long process._

That painful and humiliating –not that Harry would ever confess it or anything- chapter of Harry's life had been more than a month ago. Since then, he had applied the treatment to himself every other day to speed up the process. It would have been everyday, but the Healer had warned him doing so would overstress his muscles. It needed time to heal and regenerate new muscle fibers to strengthen his muscles. To keep himself busy on days where he was supposed to be resting, he invested his time gauging his magical core's strength by continuously casting spells until he exhausted himself.

Of course, whenever Harry wasn't practicing one group of muscles or the other –taking into account we consider the magical core as a "muscle"-, he was holed up in the Potter Library, studying tomes on Warding and Runes. He had made it a habit to learn a new rune each day and keep practicing it until he could draw it perfectly and quickly. Apparently, whoever had compiled the book was either a total ass, or retarded, seeing as he placed – a very important, mind you – portion of Rune Engraving at the very last page. There was, as Harry suspected, a proper way of drawing the Runes which focused on the dual properties of economy of movement and precision. This was a mixed blessing. On one hand, he was able to learn drawing runes much more quickly. On the other hand, he discovered he had been drawing the runes incorrectly up until that point. As a result, he had to relearn drawing everything.

It was during one of these sessions where Harry was practicing when he was disturbed by Edward. This was surprising since for his entire stay he had been relatively undisturbed during his training time. _Although in hindsight, I suppose they were too busy. With Anna at Hogwarts, Mum busy working on her Charms Mastery, and Dad getting promoted as Auror Captain, it's been a rather hectic time for them as well. _They were so busy that it was rare for Harry to stay awake long enough for his father to get home.

"Hey Harry. What are you up to?" Edward asked casually, plopping himself onto the mahogany table Harry was currently using.

Without even looking up, Harry answered. "I'm brushing up on Runes."

Edward raised a brow at him. "Maybe you should have St. Mungo's take a look for any brain damage. You would have never been bothered to study before, much less something as tedious as_ Runes_."

Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised. "Really? Why is that?" Harry asked, facing his brother for the first time since the conversation started.

"Wow. Mum and Dad weren't kidding when they said you weren't going to remember all that much were they?" Seeing Harry nod, the boy continued. "Well, not that I want to stroke your ego or anything but you were always the smart one in our family. Don't get me wrong, you're lazy as hell," he added, smirking. "and you wouldn't pick up a book if you're life depended on it, but you were one of those kids who never seemed to need to study anyway."

Harry looked thoughtful as he learned that bit of information. That was certainly something new. And it was not the first time Harry was grateful he could use his disease as an excuse for his changed attitude. "I've been thinking a lot recently, ever since I recovered from the Reaper's Mark. And I've realized that I almost died without having done anything yet."

"Because I find them fascinating. That's why. And practising with runes has a distinct advantage over spells. It takes a _lot less_ _energy_." Harry said, emphasizing his last three words. "I mean Reaper's Mark left me with a pretty low magical core, and with my Enhancement Treatment," _and my secret core exercise training_ Harry added silently, "I don't exactly have the leisure of throwing my magic around."

"I guess that makes sense. But runes are _so ancient_! I mean who even bothers to use those things anymore? They take so much effort to make! Wouldn't casting a spell be faster? I mean once you recover I don't see how this'll benefit you."

"It couldn't hurt to learn. Knowledge is power after all."

Edward snorted at that. "Ladies and Gentlemen, my brother the scholar!"

Harry glared at him, before pinching the bridge of his nose and pausing from his studies. Gathering his thoughts, he attempted to enlighten his brother. "I have a question for you, Edward. Do you know what Transfiguration is?"

"Of course! It's one of the major subjects they teach at Hogwarts. The art of turning one thing into another, as Dad always says."

"Right, so could you tell me why we don't just transfigure and conjure everything we need? Why bother buying things?" Harry asked.

Edward frowned. "Well, you can't conjure or transfigure some things since it goes against the laws of transfiguration. Like food or magic-resistant objects."

Harry nodded. "That's one reason. Transfiguration is limited in its uses. The real reason is because of a Law of Physics." Seeing his blank look, he explained. "Physics is the study of the things and how the interact with other things. A Law of Physics is an observation that muggles have that holds true for all things. According to one of those laws, any action will have an equal and opposite reaction. You with me so far?"

"Yeah, mum explained this to us once."

"Well, here's where it gets interesting. With Transfiguration and Conjuration, you are forcing an object into another state by manipulating the molecules of an object. Magic literally forces these molecules to change at an atomic level. What the muggles don't know is that matter considers magic an anomaly. Whenever you change an object, they react by attempting to revert to their original form. So whenever you transfigure something, it takes a constant stream of magic to maintain the change. Of course, with practice, this maintenance moves to a subconscious level.

"With _Runes_ however, the need for this stream of magic can be eliminated. Alone, runes are useless because they can only serve one purpose. Their effectiveness comes into play when you link several runes together, forming a rune chain. Because of this single minded purpose, a rune is far more effective and energy efficient at its intended task. Another thing is their patterns, which are made to channel magic as efficiently as possible. The best made rune chains are able to go as far as absorbing the ambient magic and recycling its own magic to last indefinitely!" Harry finished.

Edward paused for a while. "So would it be possible to make a rune chain for something utilitarian in purpose? Maybe a defensive shield that activates automatically?"

Harry frowned. "The shield is possible, I've seen it done. I'd suppose it would take a lot of time and effort to find the best combination for a rune chain of that purpose."

"What about something like creating a miniaturized portable storage space?"

Harry shook his head. "That's impossibility, I'm afraid."

"Right, well its been great talking to you Harry. I'll leave you to your runes than. I think I might go play Quidditch with the neighbors." Edward mused aloud, walking away.

Without pause, Harry immediately opened the tome again, flipping through the pages hastily. _Edward's just given me an idea for a runes project. A miniaturized portable storage space is impossible, but creating a rune chain that can create a direct access point to an existing storage space should be feasible._

* * *

**St. Mungo's, October 15, 1992...**

"Oh, Aliceeeeee!" Harry shouted, intentionally drawling out his favorite healer's name, and ignoring the strange looks people were shooting at him. Harry grinned as the familiar blonde's head shot up suddenly, looking around wildly. Her eyes narrowed when she found the source of sound that was calling for her -namely, Harry.

"You're an hour early."

"Of course, I wouldn't want to be late. You know how much I enjoy these secret meetings of ours, and I'm sure you enjoy them as much as I do, if not more." Harry said, smirking.

"I thought you agreed to shut up if I taught you?"

"But you're not teaching me right now, so I don't see why I have to shut up." Harry pointed out.

Refusing to be lured into a debate with the brat, Alice promptly ignored him and dragged him to her office. "You know, by the hasty way you're dragging me into your office, people might think you're taking advantage of 'poor, helpless, Harry Potter' during our weekly dates." Harry said in a low voice, to ensure that no one but the healer could hear him. Alice stopped to glare at him, but was only infuriated even further, when that_thing _had the gall to wink "suggestively" at her. Deciding to take upon a vow of silence, Alice roughly threw him into her office, locked the doors and threw up some silencing charms.

"Take off your shirt." She barked at him.

Harry frowned. "You're nice and easy on the eyes, Alice, but I'm not sure I'm ready to go to the next level with you just yet."

"That's not what I mean!"She yelled, turning beet red.

"So you don't want me to take off my shirt?"

"Yes! I mean No!"

Harry shook his head. "I'll never understand women."

Taking a deep breath, she began anew. "Mr Potter, I need you to take off your shirt so that I can run a diagnostics charm on your core."

"Oh, alright then." Harry answered, proceeding to follow her instructions.

Silently, Alice sent a wave of magic at Harry's now bare chest. The moment it hit, it turned a strange reddish hue that made Harry uneasy. _I've got a bad feeling about this. _"What exactly does that mean?"

"It means you're magical core is destabilized." Alice said fearfully, running even more charms on Harry. "Have you been practising any magical arts between the time you were checked out and today?"

"Well, I did the Enhancement Treatment every other day. I also practised a bit of runes and spell casting. Why? Is something wrong?" Harry asked, getting more than a little worried as he heard "magical core" in the same sentence as "destabilized" without the words "is not" in between.

She gazed at him for a time, remaining completely silent, as if considering the possibility that he was lying just to spite her. "I'm surprised you haven't felt any side effects from this yet. As your Healer, I am ordering you to stop practising any forms of magic until the next week. Your core is at dangerously low levels, and to continue on this path is not only foolhardy, but extremely dangerous as well. Do I make my self perfectly clear Potter?"

Harry gulped. "Yes Alice."

She nodded, glad that the boy had some sense to him after all. "Good, I'd hate to admit you to this hospital again because of this." She said, shuddering as she thought she might have to deal with him on a daily basis again.

"If you should wish to continue this training of yours, I'd suggest looking into Precision Casting techniques to minimize excess damage loss. For now, go home. and get some rest. Don't attempt another Enhancement Treatment session."

Harry frowned. "But...I'm not nearly strong enough to walk on my own yet. And if i rest for a week my legs will get weaker to a point where any progress I've made might be lost!" Harry said, dismayed.

Alice shoved a something long and pointy into harry' chest in the blink of an eye. Harry looked down to see the sharpened tip of a cane merely millimeters away from drawing blood. "Simple answer Potter. Use a cane. Get your parents to buy you one. Now go home." She said, releasing the charms she had set up, and opening the door for her patient.

Harry left without a word, manually moving his wheelchair for the first time since he got it, instead of magically propelling himself forward or walking.

**AN: Alright that's the end of this chapter, remember to click on the review button below.I promise that my next chapter will be significantly longer and will finish the arc of "Harry's Recovery" and get into the real action in Hogwarts!**

2012-05-17 AN: So I just got an anonymous review stating that my story has a plot hole. Below is the reviewer's exact words.

"You've made a huge mistake, harry should be dead. As magical powers and abilites are tied to the body all that's happening is a bodyswap therfore harry swapping bodies with the other harry wouldn't cure him it woulds just put him into the coma the young harry was in trapped him in a dying body and young harry would get his body and powers"

Ok, what did you not get about the magical disease which triggered him into the coma? I'm pretty sure it's written there that the coma is a result of the third stage of the disease and recovery/surviving was based on one's will. The Dimension Travelling Harry, being a lot older and far more convicted after finishing his war could logically be a lot more enduring then a twelve year old kid who had probably given up on living.

As for young Harry, I suppose it is a possibility that he did, in fact, end up in the other body. But as my story will probably never venture back to that dimension, whether he is dead or not makes little difference to the plot.


	4. Full Recovery

**Chapter 3: Full Recovery**

"…of all the irresponsible things you've ever done, this is the most foolhardy! _Disregarding _a healer's advice? On important _personal _medical matters no less? Do you have a death wish? I am _extremely _disappointed in you!" Lily yelled, pacing back and forth.

Before her, Harry stood silent before her castigation, head bowed and eyes downcast.

James took special note of this, and being ever the keen peacemaker, decided it was time to intercede for his son. "Harry, is there a reason that you felt the need to practice magic when the healers told you not to?" James asked calmly, in contrast to the fuming redhead beside him.

"I…I just…I just didn't want to be left behind in my education, you know? I mean everyone my age is going to Hogwarts, learning, and by the time I reenter, I'm going to be behind by at least two years, maybe even three. I just thought I should spend this time to at least catch up on everything I'm missing out on." Harry answered softly.

Lily stopped pacing abruptly, her harsh glare taking on a softer undertone. "I'm glad that you're taking your education more seriously, Harry, but core destabilization is a serious matter." She paused, observing him, before announcing her judgment. "For this reason, I am forbidding you from magic for two weeks."

Harry looked up in shock, frowning. Seeing he was about to speak up, Lily continued. "And no practicing spells for a month." Harry turned ashen at that. Beside her, James smiled at him sympathetically. "If catching up is so important for you, I'll promise to tutor you after your one month probation _if _you behave." She finished.

Harry nodded, accepting the consequences without remark, turning to leave. Once he was out of earshot, James let out a loud sigh. Lily spun on her heels, facing her husband. "You don't approve of my decision, do you?" She asked accusingly, jabbing his chest rather forcefully.

James winced, more from fear of having to sleep on the couch the jabbing implied than the physical pain. "It's just you seemed a little harsh on him, Lily. I think he's a bit depressed that all his friends seem to be moving on, leaving him behind."

"He should have known better."

"You would have done the same, if you were in his shoes." James pointed out.

Lily chose not to answer.

"And you always did complain how much he took after his – and I quote – 'slacker of a father'." He continued, partly jesting. "Face it Lily, you're actually filled with pride inside of how Harry's becoming more studious. You wouldn't have offered to tutor him otherwise."

At this, she smiled a little. "Maybe I am a little happy of the new change in him, but, the ban on magic stands." James frowned, fearing he had not gotten his point across. "If…if he casts magic again unsupervised, his core could implode on him. We almost lost him once! I can't let that happen again!" She cried out, tears starting to appear.

James embraced her crying spouse comfortingly. "He's a smart kid, Lily. He won't pull something like that again now that he knows what could happen to him." He said, comfortingly patting her wife's back.

"And if it makes you feel better, I could ask Remus to look after him for a while."

"I'm bored." Harry whined to his babysitter.

Remus lowered the book he was reading momentarily to retort. "You've been bored for the entire week Harry. You know I still won't let you do magic. And frankly, I think a young boy like you should spend more time having time having fun and less studying." He grabbed a drink that was on the table beside him, and took a generous sip. "By the way, great lemonade you make." He said, raising the glass in a faux toast.

"This coming from the 'studious Marauder'?" Harry asked rhetorically, emphasizing his point with exaggerated hand movements in the air.

"Just because I was a little bit more concerned with my grades than the others, doesn't me I didn't have my share of fun." He answered. "Why don't you go out and play Quidditch with your brother?"

"I'm a cripple. How exactly would I be able to play Quidditch?" Harry snapped at him.

The werewolf raised both hands in surrender. "No need to get mad, Harry. It was merely a suggestion. And if I recall correctly, you don't exactly need you feet to ride a broom."

Harry smiled sheepishly at him. "Sorry for snapping at you Remus. I've just been frustrated lately."

"No worries." His uncle said, graciously accepting his apology, before taking another sip of lemonade. "Seriously, this stuff is great." He looked at the boy in front of him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "You didn't put anything in my drink did you?"

"No, but thank you for that excellent pranking idea. I'll be sure to try it next time." Harry answered, grinning. Then, he frowned again. "I'm still bored."

Lupin looked thoughtful for a while. "What about I tell you about my time at Hogwarts?" At this, the young wizard nodded fervently, eager to hear of what fantastic tales his uncle had in store for him. "Well, anything you want to hear about in particular?"

"How did my parents meet?"

At this, Remus chuckled. "Oh, that's a very long tale."

"We have nothing but time."

"Well, your parents actually hated each other for the longest time. Well, alright, more like Lily hated James for the longest time. Your father took an unhealthy interest in her during our fourth year, and managed to earn her ire. She only really forgave him during sixth year, but even then she wouldn't give him the time of day. It took an entire year of courting for her to finally accept." Lupin smiled at the mere thought. "Those were the days. Sirius, Peter, and I had many a bets as to when they'd finally get together. We had even more laughs watching James' –somewhat pathetic, I must say – attempts at wooing Lily. Quite amusing, really," He paused, and then added as an afterthought, "remind me to let you see me pensieve collection on that."

"I'd like that. But what did dad do that got mum so angry at him for two years?"

"Lily was," He hesitated, thinking of the right word to continue with, "on very good terms with Severus during her time in Hogwarts. Your dad was extremely jealous of their relationship at first. He and Severus had a fight, and in a stroke of misfortune, he managed to disarm Severus just as Lily approached the scene. In her eyes, it was an act of bullying against her best friend."

"So why did she finally forgive him?" Harry asked curiously.

"Severus told her of what really happened that day, claiming he was just as responsible for the incident as James was. Told her to – and I quote – 'stop being so bloody bullheaded about this and give him a shot Lily'." Harry raised a brow at this. "He was just as frustrated with the tension between them as we were." Remus explained matter-of-factly.

"Are you actually telling me that Snape was the reason my parents got together?" Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I don't understand. I thought dad and Snape hated each others guts!"

"Oh, they did at first. But Snape's blood status was found out by some of the less tolerating purebloods. Not all of them were Slytherins mind you, but a lot of them were. And they made life very hard for Severus. James found out and stood up for him in public one day. He told those bigots to bugger off. That day changed everything."

"Why would dad do that?" Harry asked, frowning at the remarkably uncharacteristic behavior of his father.

"Arrogant as he may be sometimes, if there's one thing your father could never take, it was bullying others because of their blood status. He was an ardent opponent to the idea. It didn't matter who was taking the ridicule about their heritage, he'd stand by them. That day, James and Severus reconciled. Eventually, they became friends of sorts. Your dad and Severus aren't on the best of terms, true, but they aren't enemies nevertheless. It just doesn't show all the time, of course, but they've agreed to disagree on some issues at least. That's better than hexing each other to oblivion."

Harry's face scrunched up in confusion. "But didn't Snape fancy mum or something?"

Remus had a hearty laugh at that. "Oh, he did at first. But, later on, it was really an act just to rile James up and hide the crush he had on one of the Ravenclaws. It was actually James who hooked him up with the girl during our last year. Tricked him into it in a rather Slytherin way, not that he'd ever admit to it."

"So, Snape isn't a Death Eater?"

Remus raised a brow at the young ward. "What makes you think that?"

"He just always seemed like that kind of a guy to me. Or at least, he seemed that way when I was in Hogwarts. He always favored the Slytherins."

Remus nodded, accepting the explanation. "That's a common misconception. Not all Slytherins become Death Eaters, and not all Gryffindors are against blood purity. After how the Dark Lord's followers ridiculed Severus, he wouldn't have joined up with them under torture. Severus was a very proud man, and insulting him like that was an inexcusable atrocity. After we graduated, he hightailed it out of the country with his girlfriend and travelled to Africa for his masteries. And once he came back, he turned out to be one of the most valued assets of the Order and became potions professor at Hogwarts. Do you have any more questions for me, Harry?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "So let me get this straight. Snape had a girlfriend, is not a death eater and used to fancy my mum. He and my dad are sort of friends, and is indirectly responsible for how my parents got together?"

"That's a pretty good summary." Remus confirmed.

Harry shook his head again, processing the story he had just heard. _There's so much in this world I still don't know. _He thought to himself, twirling his wand in one of his hand habitually.

November began with Lily waking later than usual. As she headed downstairs to make breakfast, she was surprised to hear noises in the kitchen. She opened the door cautiously, doing her best to slip in without being noticed. The sight that greeted her was...strange. Her son, Harry Potter, was _cooking_ breakfast. Sniffing the air experimentally, Lily caught a whiff of what seemed to be sizzling bacon. After observing the scene before her for a good five minutes, she decided it was time to make her presence known. "This is certainly interesting."

Harry spun around with impressive speed for a boy that was supposed to have difficulty walking. _He must be on Treatment. _She concluded. He had a face that spoke of caution and wariness, before it quickly transformed into one of shock. Lily merely raised a brow at him, shifting her sight to what he was wearing. "Nice apron. I never knew you had a thing for cats."

Harry grinned sheepishly at her. "Um...it's yours actually. I sort of borrowed it."

"So why are you up so early and cooking, of all things?" She asked curiously, moving to the dining table where several plates filled with food were waiting.

Harry stuttered nervously. "I...er...got hungry."

"You got hungry, so you decided to cook enough food for the entire family?" She motioned to the food already on the table to emphasize her point.

"I thought it would be inconsiderate if I cooked only enough food for myself." Shrugging, he continued. "So I might as well cook for everybody and save some time."

Lily smiled at that, and kissed him in the cheek. "That's awfully sweet of you, Harry. By the way, you're bacon's burning."

Harry's eyes widened, frantically focusing his entire being to try and save the bacon. Lily didn't bother trying to hiding her amusement. His sudden -panic induced-burst of motion, had another effect. It revealed a piece of parchment on the counter with strange symbols on it, shining brightly. Now it was Lily's turn to be shocked. "Is that a rune chain? Where did you learn about runes?"

Harry stopped in his futile attempts to save the strips of delicious meat, caught unprepared for the serious line of questioning. "I...I've been studying runes from the library tomes during my spare time. It seemed really interesting, so I decided to try it out." He refused to meet her gaze.

"What on earth would compel you to use a rune chain for cooking?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, you said I couldn't use spells for a month, and since we don't use gasoline like muggles, I needed to improvise a bit." He explained. "So I decided that a rune chain would be my best bet to get enough heat for cooking."

She didn't bother replying, but alternated staring between her son and the rune chain. To say that Lily was impressed was an understatement. Her son, who had barely gotten through a semester of his first year at Hogwarts, was using rune chains! A fourth year would have found that making one difficult, especially one that had so many control variables like Harry's had. "This is really something Harry." He was dumbfounded when she hugged him, expecting that she would be furious he did magic. Breaking the embrace, she continued. "That settles it. I can't let your talent go to waste. I'm going to be tutoring you in Runes and Charms until you go back to Hogwarts. "

Harry grinned excitedly at that. He hadn't gotten very far with his runes training with relying on just books to explain everything. A teacher as knowledgeable as his mum would definitely make things easier.

Before Harry knew it, it was already Christmas time with the Potters. It became routine for Harry and Edward to be conscripted in helping set up decorations. Of course, with four magically endowed individuals -albeit one was still untrained- working together, the work went a lot faster. Anna had returned home a few days before Christmas Day, much to the Potter family's delight at being reunited once again.

_Ding! Ding!_

"Someone please get the door!" Lily yelled from the kitchen.

Harry glanced at Edward, who glanced at Anna, who glanced at Edward. "Just because I'm the youngest, doesn't mean you two can pick on me to do things all the time." He grumbled.

Harry smirked. "I'm crippled and Anna's a girl. The codes of chivalry dictate, that you, as the only fully functioning male must answer the door on our behalf." He pointed out.

Edward shot a glare at him. "Besides, Democracy also dictates that you're outvoted in this instance." Anna provided helpfully, and smirked when she got her own glare in response.

Muttering under his breath, Edward begrudgingly walked to get the door. Once he was out of earshot, both of his siblings broke out in laughter. "I can't believe he fell for that." Anna commented. "That code of chivalry bit was ingenious. How'd you think up of that one?"

"You know all those muggle stories about knights mum used to read to us? Well, I did some research on them and learned about the code. It's pretty similar to what most pureblood families are supposed to practice."

Anna nodded then put on a look of hesitation. "So…um, what have you been up to since I was gone?"

Harry shrugged concomitantly. "Not much. I've been spending most of my time trying to catch up with my year. Mum's tutoring me in Charms and Ancient Runes. How about you?" He inquired politely.

"It's really interesting being there. I've been learning a lot with the Gryffindors. Although Transfiguration is hard."

"Don't let dad catch you saying that. He loves that subject almost as much as he loves mum." Harry joked.

Before she could answer, Edward returned with the Blacks in tow. "Uncle Sirius! Auntie Sarah!" She squealed, running up to hug her favorite godparents. Sarah, from what Harry could remember, was Sirius's wife. Upon observation, she was a fair woman, slim, medium height, with auburn hair, blue eyes. With them were two children, a girl and a boy, whom Harry could only assume were Sirius' children. The boy had brown hair, and blue eyes, but looked to be a younger version of his father aside from that. The girl seemed to be a replica of her mother except for her eyes, which were grey, like Sirius'.

"It's good to see you, Anna." Sarah replied, returning her hug.

"Harry, how are you feeling?" Sirius asked, almost at the same time.

"I'm getting better." Harry answered from his wheelchair. "In a few months, this thing I'm sitting on should be obsolete."

Sirius grinned at him. "That's good to hear. Where's your father by the way?"

"He's in the kitchen with mum, Remus and Peter." Anna provided helpfully. Harry twitched involuntarily at the name, and had to remind himself that the Pettigrew of this world was not a death eater. Or so they claimed.

Sirius nodded his head to her in thanks, and walked off to join them with Sarah. With that, Anna turned to the young boy and girl who came in with them. "Gemma, Altair, what have you two been up to?"

The girl, Gemma, replied first. "Mum's been teaching me some spells over the summer. I can't wait for next year when I finally get to go to Hogwarts." She said excitedly.

Harry nodded as he heard that. It was typical for most Wizarding families to teach their children a bit of magic before they reached Hogwarts. And of course, wands weren't monitored in Wizarding residences with adults due to the fact that there was "competent" supervision, or so the Ministry called it.

"So Harry, are you well enough to join the game later?" Altair inquired.

"Game?" Harry put on a genuine look of surprise. "What game?"

"Quidditch, of course. What else?" He asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Your dad, my dad, Uncle Peter, Uncle Remus, me, Edward and Gemma are playing. What about you or Anna? We need one more for even teams."

Harry thought about it for a while. "I suppose I could give it a shot."

**Later…**

Harry fidgeted on his broom, adjusting how he sat to make sure he wouldn't unexpectedly fall of his broom while playing. Once he was satisfied, he flew up to join the other Quidditch participants. He looked around, and noticed the absence of Remus and Anna's mysterious appearance.

"Alright, since there are eight of us playing, I think we should have three chasers and a keeper per team. Everyone agree?" Sirius asked. Seeing nods from everybody, he continued. "Let's draw players then. James, do the honors."

"I'm picking Edward."

"I'll have Peter than."

"Anna."

"Altair."

"Harry."

"Gemma." With the teams set, they split up to discuss team strategies.

"I think I should be Keeper for this one." James started. "I'm a lot bigger than the three of you, so it should be easier for me. Edward, since you have the most experience playing, it's going to be up to you to teach harry and Anna how to play Chaser." Edward nodded, and with that the three of them flew to the center field to being playing. Peter, Harry noted, was the opposing team's Keeper.

He was so busy studying his opponents that he didn't realize Remus had thrown the Quaffle from the ground, starting the game.

Without hesitation, Sirius dashed forward to grab said ball, and sped towards the Potter Goal posts. At the same time, his children had moved to his extreme right and left to better position themselves for a pass.

Cursing himself for his lack of attention, Harry moved to position himself between Sirius and Gemma. That proved to be unnecessary as Sirius managed to score by himself. Without pause, James passed the Quaffle to Edward. Unable to position himself properly, Harry came to the conclusion that his disability to walk was affecting his ability to fly.

Closing his eyes for a few moments, he injected some of his magic into his muscles, enhancing them. Smiling, he gazed at the pitch to evaluate the situation before him. In the short amount of time he had taken himself out of the game, there had already been a turnover. Speeding up quickly, he managed to intercept a pass, much to the surprise of Gemma, the recipient of said pass. Without another thought, he threw it in an overhead pass to Edward, who was loitering near the goal posts.

"Ten all!" He heard Remus shout from below, indicating that his brother had indeed managed to score. Glancing around to take stock of the situation, Harry realized that Anna had absolutely no idea how to play Chaser. She was simply flying around after the Quaffle, and didn't see to consider positioning or team play in her actions. Shaking his head, Harry decided to help defend the goal posts this time, instead of attempting another intercept.

They continued in this manner for an hour, with both teams evenly matched in skill and points. But Anna, who had clearly never played as a Chaser before, proved to drag the Potter team down, making the fight effectively three chasers to two. It was only when Harry and Edward managed to perfect executing the Porskoff Ploy that they even stood a chance at beating the Blacks. By then though, they were simply too far behind to catch up, and grudgingly, they had to accept defeat.

After the match though, Edward had manged to corner Harry and interrogate him. "Where did you learn to play Chaser?" He asked in a demanding tone. "You've never played Chaser quite that well before. In fact, you were always more inclined to be a seeker. Have you been holding out on me?" He accused.

"So I recently learned some moves watching old Quidditch championship matches, big deal." Harry replied, lying through his teeth.

Edward scrutinized him. "You bothered to learn Chaser moves? Seriously? Weren't you the one who said that Chaser were - and I quote you on this - 'useless unless they could get a one-sixty point advantage before the snitch was caught'."

"And it surprised me how often that actually occurred on the international level."

Edward stared at him for some time, seemingly trying to decide whether his brother was lying to him or not. "So you're going to try out for the Hufflepuff Team as a Chaser?"

At this information, Harry was genuinely surprised. "I'm in Hufflepuff?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're in Hufflepuff. The healers weren't kidding about that forgetfulness thing were they?" Edward asked rhetorically.

Harry wisely decided to stay silent on that last issue and instead chose to answer the Quidditch related question."I'm still thinking about what position I want."

* * *

Weeks quickly turned into months, and before long, Harry was once again intensifying his training. In the morning, he would take strolls in the woods, and each day, he pushed himself to get nearer to Griffin's Spire. He awaited the day when he was capable of conquering the mountain by reaching its peak. In the afternoons, he spent time learning from his mum, who began teaching him all sorts of nifty things about runes and charms. More significantly, she introduced him to Arithmancy and explained why it was studied so closely with runes.

"Arithmancy is the discipline of breaking down a spell or rune into numbers. Making new spells or rune chains is a very difficult Endeavour, and the number of ways runes can be combined makes the trail-and-error method a food's errand. Thus, Arithmancy was developed with the intent to make creating rune chains easier and safer." Or so she claimed.

Under Lily's tutelage, Harry was able to advance in those two aspects much further than he had anticipated. At the rate he was going, he had not doubts he could get accelerated. As for the rest of the subjects, he was confident he could get promoted to his current year based on his stock knowledge alone, and thus saw no point to studying those further.

"Hey mum," Harry began, interrupting his mother's lecture about Arithmancy.

She paused, frowning at the unusual interruption. "What is it Harry?"

"I was just wondering...would it be possible to ask Professor Dumbledore to let me join my year when I reach Hogwarts? It's just that I've been working really hard to catch up with my year and I really wanted to graduate on time."

She smiled as she heard his reasons, and thought - not for the first time - how alike her eldest son was to herself. "I'll ask Professor Dumbledore to test you, if you'd like."

Harry nodded fervently. "I really would like that mum." Lily smiled and enveloped him in a fierce, warm embrace.

* * *

"Well, Mr. Potter, your test results are promising." Dumbledore stated.

Harry shrugged, resting his chin on his hand. "I suppose I did alright." He had deliberately held back on the test so that nobody would be able to gauge his true intellect. As of right now, the Professors at Hogwarts considered him to be an average third year student. Typical for his age.

"You did more than 'alright'. Your marks here indicate that you are quite possibly on par with most students of your age. And considering you have been secluded from sufficient study material until a few months ago, that is quite a tremendous leap of learning." Dumbledore said. "There is, however, a matter we must answer before I can accept you back at Hogwarts."

"What is it, Headmaster?"

"This school isn't as safe as people would like to believe. It has many twists and traps designed to keep one's mind sharp and on their toes." He explained, his eyes twinkling. "I am not sure if a cripple such as you would be able to withstand the stress of Hogwarts. The other students certainly wouldn't make it easier on you. Children, remarkably, have the ability to show both great sympathy and great cruelty at the same time."

"I wouldn't worry about that Headmaster." Harry replied, smirking.

"Why is that, Mr. Potter?"

You know how they say actions speak louder than words? Well, what they fail to mention is that actions also shock more than words.

Or at least it seemed that way when Harry Potter just suddenly stood up from his wheelchair, so suddenly that there was no conceivable way he could have enhanced himself in such a short amount of time. Aside from surprising Dumbledore, he had also proven beyond doubt his ability to walk without aid.

Harry Potter, according to the Healers, had completely regained his ability to walk. Harry Potter was back.

_Time for some fun. _Harry thought, as the Headmaster informed him of his acceptance.

**AN: Alright, this wasn't as training intensive as some of you might have hoped. I don't want to turn him into an uber wizard right away.**

**I wanted to show you that Harry was actually trying to get to know his new Family, and how the actions of his parents and their generation diverged sharply from Canon. Also, with the weight of the Prophecy off of Harry's shoulder, I suppose one could say he's more relaxed, and doesn't see his personal training as something critical to the war effort. After all, he is a normal boy in this world.  
**

**Also, I need help on something. I'm not sure if I should bother pairing Harry up with someone for this story. If you guys could leave a review or PM me, it would really help. Thanks.**


	5. Hogwarts

**Chapter 4: Hogwarts**

"Honestly Ron! Do you have constant urge to stuff yourself with anything edible you see? Show some restraint!" Ginny exclaimed, eyeing her brother's gluttony with disgust.

Ron paused in his "feast" for a moment and looked at his sister's face. She raised her brow at him expectantly. He merely shrugged in return, before redirecting his attention to something more worthwhile…like that Cauldron Cake sitting on the table.

Before she could once again remark on her brother's appetite, the compartment door slid open loudly. She focused her gaze on the newcomer. He was wearing the school robes in the yellow and black motif signifying he was part of the Hufflepuff House. That in itself was normal, had it not been for the fact that he wearing gloves on both hands, an oddity for a student.

Her observations were interrupted by the boy. "Red hair, freckles and from the Gryffindor House," he noted casually, "you must be Ginevra and Ronald Weasley then." He stated, sighing loudly as he did. "Better company than Malfoy and his cronies, I suppose." He said to no one in particular, taking a seat beside Ron.

"You have us at a disadvantage. You know our names, but we don't know yours." Ginny replied coolly, hostile to the fact that he had just used her real name instead of the much more preferred nickname. "And call me Ginny, not Ginevra."

The stranger looked at her. "I sense a lot of hostility from you, Ginevra."

She glared at him fiercely. "You just compared us to Malfoy and you came in uninvited. That's not exactly the best first impression you can give. And you have a habit of ignoring my instructions."

He sighed again. "My, my, the famous Weasley temper. I wouldn't dare to ignore you're instructions, Ginevra. And since you're _dying_ to know, I" he drawled out emphatically, "Am Harry Potter."

She raised a brow at that. "Potter?" She turned to her brother to confer. "I thought Anna Potter was the only Potter attending Hogwarts. I've never heard her mention a brother coming here as well."

Ron swallowed whatever food was in his mouth before answering. "That's what I thought too. Maybe he's a cousin of theirs?"

Harry seemed amused that the two siblings decided to talk as if he wasn't in the same compartment as they were. "I'm not a cousin. I'm her brother. I was homeschooled last year so that's probably why you don't know who I am."

"Why were you home schooled?" Ginny asked.

"I was too sick to come to Hogwarts. It had something to do with being a temporary invalid." Harry said. "Tell me, have either of you seen...what was his name again? Oh right, the Longbottom fellow."

"The Longbottom fellow? You mean Neville Longbottom?" Seeing Harry's nod of confirmation, he continued. "He should be coming around soon. He usually joins us although…" He trailed off, glancing around nervously.

"Although what?" Harry asked curiously. He glanced from one Weasley to the other, determining who would be the first to tell him.

"Neville hasn't been well lately. He's taken a beating from the press after what happened last year." Ron explained hesitantly, taking for granted that Harry would know what he was talking about.

"What happened last year? I was isolated from the world remember?"

"Professor Lockhart saved us from Slytherin's monster. Unfortunately, Neville got hit by a stray curse. He hasn't been right in the head for some reason. He has a hard time remembering what really happened, gets caught up in trances, claimed to have strange nightmares." Ron answered further.

It was then that Harry realized why Ginny's eyes were downcast. Why she refused to speak on the matter. _She_ had been there. _It sounds like Lockhart's been practicing with his memory charms. _Harry thought angrily.

The door slid open loudly again. This time, everyone in the compartment could recognize the newcomer. "Ron, Ginny," He greeted, nodding to them once. He turned his attention to Harry, extending his hand to him. "I'm Neville Longbottom, boy-who-lived, boy-who-lies, boy-who's-mental, really depends on who you're talking to." He said with a hint of bitter undertone.

Harry shook his hand firmly. "I'm Harry Potter, boy-who-recently-came-out-of-a-hospital-for-some-deadly-disease-or-what-not. Of course, if you speak to my Healer, she will ask you to refer to me as 'annoying-brat-who-I-wish-I-didn't-save'." He replied, grinning cheekily. "It really depends on who you're talking to."

At that, Neville smiled a little. "You're a different sort, Harry." He looked at Harry more closely, trying to decide on something. Finally, he spoke up again. "I think I like you already."

Harry raised a brow at that and couldn't help himself from delivering one last quip. "Thanks, but I'm not gay."

Neville spluttered incoherently, Ron looked at them with eyes wide open, and Ginny looked shocked. After a moment to recompose, Neville replied. "Alright, I fell into that one with my last comment. For the record though, I am not gay."

Ron eyed Neville uncertainly and Harry was being…Harry. "If you say so…"

"I'm not!" Neville exclaimed hotly.

"Sure you're not…"

"I'm being honest, I swear! I like girls! Ask Ron!" Neville looked to his friend for support and found none.

"How would Ron know?" Harry asked, raising his brow suspiciously at them. "Have you been…_experimenting_?"

Neville was back to his spluttering, while Ron had a look of horror on his face, trying to get as much space between him and Neville. "You know, Neville, denial is the first stage of acceptance. I suppose you'll try bargaining with God, depression, or anger next. Don't worry though. It'll be alright in the end." Harry said it with such a straight face, Kirstin Stewart would be proud.

Ginny burst out laughing, unable to contain her mirth. Moments later, Harry joined her. And it was then that Ron and Neville realized that they'd been had. Neville, despite being the butt end of his jokes, managed to chuckle still. "I'll admit a good prank when I see one. Don't think I won't get you back though." He threatened lightheartedly, taking a seat besides Ginny after minutes of standing.

Like Ginny, Neville noticed Harry's gloves. "What are those for?" He asked, pointing at them.

Harry didn't bother with a reply, and instead turned to Ginny. "Hey _Ginevra-" _Before he could finish, a stream of light was sent his way courtesy of said redhead. Smirking in triumph, Harry raised his glove, the palm of which revealed a rune chain in the pattern of a circle. It suddenly glowed into life, stopping the spell in midair then dissipating its energy. His companions were all looking at him agape. "I believe that actions speak louder than words." He explained lamely, shrugging.

"You just stopped that spell in flight and caused it to disappear! How did you do that?" Ron shouted.

"I used magic. Surely you'd know a thing or two about it since you study in a _magical school _after all." Harry drawled sarcastically. "And I didn't cause it to disappear. I merely absorbed the energy into my gloves."

"But making something like that is way above our level. How'd you manage?"

"When you're home schooled by your mother who just happens to not only be a hard taskmaster, but a candidate for Mastery in both Runes and Charms, making something like this isn't much of a feat." He said. "And since she helped me with most of this, it seems unfair for you to give me all the credit." He flexed his hand experimentally, and the lights of his glove faded. Okay, so that wasn't completely true, but his mum did do most of the Arithmancy calculations he needed to create the rune chain for this project.

"Why would you need something like that?" Ron inquired, staring at the glove in amazement.

Harry sighed. "What do you guys know about Reaper's Mark?"

"I know it's a deadly disease which sucks out your energy." Neville answered.

"Yes, well, until recently, I've been afflicted by it. As a result, my magical core is below average in strength. I could possibly train it back up to average strength, but that may very well take years before I am as fit as I was before. In terms of pure magical strength, I'd likely lose to my opponent." Harry breathed heavily, raising his glove to eye level. "To compensate, I have to…improvise. If I can't defend myself the conventional way, might as well be unconventional about things."

Neville nodded. "Play to your strengths."

Harry looked at him sharply, surprised he'd understand. "Exactly."

"I know everyone's expecting me to be really good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, but the truth is I'm rubbish." Neville confessed. "My passion in Herbology, not spell craft."

Harry snorted. "Screw what the others think Neville. Be what you want to be. If you live your life based on what others want, you're not living at all." He paused. "Besides, do you know how many ways you could kill someone using plants?"

* * *

**September 1, 1993, Start-of-Term Feast...**

Harry watched the Sorting with disinterest from the Hufflepuff Table. Having only been in school for a month before getting shipped off to St. Mungo's really didn't help him in making any friends. The fact that he been gone for close to two school years compounded the problem. There were some familiar faces though, that much he could recall from his old life. Out of "deference" to the Sorting Ceremony though, Harry chose not to strike up a conversation, and reluctantly shifted his eyes to the tedious task of Sorting.

After what seemed like forever, the sorting finished, and Dumbledore stood to make his big speech. "Before we begin our feast, I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Some of you are new, and as such, we will begin with some rules and regulations. First off, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason. I wouldn't venture in there, if I were you, for fear of death. Secondly, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, wishes to remind you all that all products of Zonko's are contraband. For a full list of banned items, please visit his office." Dumbledore paused, as if pondering what to say next. "As some of you may have noticed, we have a new student with us, Mr. Harry Potter. Due to certain circumstances he had to be home schooled. However, circumstances have passed, and after much testing and deliberation, he has been deemed fit to join the Third Years. I wish for you all to give him a warm welcome.

"Lastly, as some of you may have heard, next year, our school will be playing host to the Triwizard Tournament." Excited whispering broke out from the crowd. "In line with this, the Ministry has decided to hold the Preliminary Qualifier. Throughout this year, we will have many challenges for you to join in order to increase your chances for success and survival. Also, a Duelling Club is being set up. Those of you interested in joining next year should give serious thought in joining these activities. Even if you don't wish to join, participate anyway. This kind of training is dead useful." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "This will be welcome to all levels, in accordance with the Ministry's proclamation." He said somewhat distastefully. "The first challenge will be a Duelling Tournament. The winner of such will be declared as the Hogwarts Duelling Champion and an award of two hundred galleons. In addition, the top three duellists shall also be permitted to join the National Duelling Tournament, Junior Division."

"Now, before we begin our feast, a few words." He cleared his throat rather dramatically. With a twinkle in his eye, he continued. "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

The empty platters on the table were filled to the brim magically. Foods of all sorts appeared, enticing the hungry students to feast. Harry merely watched them eat, ignoring the food in front of him. Finally, a student beside him noticed his odd behaviour, and decided to question him. "Harry...err...is there a reason why you're not eating?" A boy, from the sounds of it, asked.

Harry redirected his eyes so he could see the boy. "Hmm, you must be Cedric Diggory, sixth year Hufflepuff, male prefect." Harry stated, eyeing the gleaming prefect badge pinned on his chest.

Cedric's eye widened in surprise. "How did you know?"

Harry smiled at him. "Magic." He answered cryptically. "And to answer your previous question, I'm not feeling very hungry at the moment, so what better way to spend my time than watching others?"

"That's...creepy."Cedric stated bluntly."Anyway, I want to welcome you to Hufflepuff...again."

Harry nodded, barely listening to him. he was far too busy mulling over a question that had been bothering him ever since he got into this house. Finally, he spoke up. "Excuse me, is there anyone here I was friends with back during First Year?" He asked loudly.

Everyone at the table glanced at him in uncertainty. Finally, someone nearby spoke up. "I wasn't friends with you per se, but we talked regularly. Does that count?" Harry turned to the source. He recognized her as Hannah Abbot.

"I have a question for you, Hannah." Harry could see she looked surprised he remembered her. "I'm not all too certain, but I've been told that I was a slacker before I got a mild case of amnesia. If that were so, how'd I manage to get into Hufflepuff? Aren't we supposed to be hard working or something?"

She looked thoughtful for a while before answering. She tensed up a little as she noticed the entire table was waiting for her answer. "You were very...impartial about things, and you were very honest about the opinions you proclaimed. Both traits of Hufflepuff. So while true you were a lazy bum, you also happened to be a very good arbiter." She said honestly.

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Hannah. I appreciate this." Harry answered meaningfully, staring at her with his striking emerald eyes.

She blushed, and mumbled something that sounded like "Happy to help" before turning her attention back to her food. Without another word, Harry eyed some pie, before helping himself to a slice. The table immediately went back to eating, the conversation forgot. Cedric, however, didn't resume eating. "How did you do that?" Cedric asked incredulously.

"Did what?" Harry asked, not bothering to face him as they talked.

"Just manage to hold everyone's attention in an instant. It was like everyone was in a trance or something!" He exclaimed silently. "Plus, I think someone has a crush on you." He added, grinning.

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The answer to your first question is simple. When important people speak, others listen. And no, she does not have a crush on me." Harry answered. "Are girls all you think about?"

"You think you're important?" Cedric asked, scoffing. "And I think of plenty of things aside from girls. But when you get to my age, you'll start having a healthy interest for them as well, I reckon."

"Of course not, don't be silly." Harry answered. "Other people think that way, doesn't mean I am."

"Okay, why would others think of you as important?" He asked, positively confused.

"Its because of the manner I conduct myself with." Harry said, as if explaining to a child. "I act with confidence. I speak with confidence. I show disinterest in others, and as a result, it seems to stimulate the inferiority complex in people. They are lowering their self-worth, and thereby thinking mine has increased."

Cedric looked at him with interest, before shaking his head. "I'm surprised you're so well-versed in such pureblood etiquette. Not to mention, very good at it."

"I am the heir of the Potters. I have to be good at this stuff."

"You sound more like a Slytherin than a Hufflepuff."

"That is so prejudiced. And better a snake than a marshmallow." Harry retorted.

"Stop calling our house a marshmallow." Cedric snapped. Harry simply smirked, as if he had won a game against this friend.

"You're also Quidditch Captain right?"

"Yeah, you want to try out?"

Harry nodded. "I want to see if I can pull off being Chaser. I played a few games over summer, and I seemed pretty good."

Cedric frowned at him. "You seemed pretty good? You don't sound so sure of yourself."

"Doesn't seem that useful if I get cocky. Might as well call it as it is."

"And you say you've only played a few game. what makes you think you can beat the average run-of-the-mill Chaser aspirants we have running around?"

"Do you know who won Chaser of the Year from 1975 to 1978? He has a special award in the Trophy room for that."

"1975 to 1978? That would be..." Cedric stopped cold, eyes widening in realization.

Harry nodded in satisfaction. "That's right. My father, James Potter. And I might or might not have picked up a few tricks from my dad." Harry finished.

**AN: How much begging must I do to get reviews?**


	6. First Impressions

**Chapter 5: First Impressions  
**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts - Dueling 101  
**  
Neville Longbottom fidgeted nervously as he watched his newest friend _ignore _Professor Lockhart while the latter was questioning the former. He winced visibly as Lockhart screamed himself hoarse to get the attention of the Hufflepuff. Glancing around, he noticed that everyone else in the class was paying attention to the rapidly approaching confrontation.

"Mr. Potter! What is the first step during a Dueling Match?" Harry looked dead on, his gaze going straight through the blustering man in front of him.

"Answer the question, Mr. Potter!" Lockhart was turning purple now.

"If you don't know the answer it's perfectly alright to say so, you know!" Harry still refused to acknowledge his very existence, which started to make some of the Hufflepuffs nervous. The Gryffindors were looking at him with some admiration for his gall, or brashness as the Ravenclaws called it. The Slytherins eyed him with interest, wondering what he was up to.

"Potter! That's it! Fifty Points from Hu-"

"The first step to a formal dueling match is to bow to your opponent as a sign of respect. You are then to wait for the referee to count to three, after which you will do your best to disarm, incapacitate, or kill your opponent depending on the match's requirements for victory. In an informal duel, otherwise known as 'fighting for your life', the first step is to assess the situation. If you are outnumbered, the best choice is usually to flee. If that proves impossible, you may call for help and attempt to hold out, or launch a rapid assault to break the enemy's equilibrium." Harry answered suddenly, interrupting Lockhart and still managing to not look at the man.

Lockhart looked stumped that he knew the answer. "Why did you not answer me at once?" He demanded, glaring at the insolent child.

Harry finally bothered to look at the man, staring him down with his eyes. Lockhart involuntarily shivered under his gaze. "Because, Gilderoy, I was gathering my thoughts." He answered dryly, twirling his wand casually in his right hand. "Is there anything else?"

"Next time, I would appreciate it if you said you were thinking instead of ignoring me pointedly. And that's _Professor _Lockhart to you." Lockhart was about to drop the issue when the next few words from Harry successfully provoked him again.

"Whatever you say _Gilderoy._" Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff!" The Hufflepuffs collectively groaned, while everyone else in the room cheered.

"Harry, shut up! We're never going to win the House Cup at this rate!" Hannah hissed beside him. Harry just gave her a look that screamed "Do I look like I care about the stupid cup?"

"Gilderoy?"

"What is it Potter!" Lockhart snapped. "And another ten points for your insolence."

Harry, not bothered in the slightest by the punishment, continued. "Why are you teaching this class? I thought Albus Dumbledore or Filius Flitwick would teach. Hell, even Severus Snape would have been a good choice. All of them are _accomplished _duellists. The same cannot be said for you, I'm afraid."

"I'll have you know that I am a very good duelist."

"Really? How many dueling circuits have you entered? A dueling circuit is, by the way, a tournament that employs the Round Robin method instead of the elimination format."

"I know what a circuit is!" Lockhart frowned. "And, technically, none yet."

"Hmm is that so? Alright, how many National or International Duelling Tournaments have you won?" Harry asked, watching him with scorn.

"I...um...I've never won one either."

Harry propped his chin lazily on his hand, unfazed by his answers. "Really? Not even one?" Harry asked in mock surprise. "Well, how about local tournaments?"

"What's your point Potter?" Lockhart asked, glaring at the upstart.

"Albus Dumbledore has won three international dueling circuits. He also has immense battlefield experience from facing Grindelwald and Voldemort. Filius Flitwick is a renowned international duelist. Having won two international dueling circuits, and the World International Dueling Championship, not to mention countless local, regional, and national tournaments, it is not surprising. As for Severus Snape, he won the Glasglow Open, and qualified for the English Nationals. The reason he did not continue was to fight in the war against Voldemort." Harry recited. "A war, Gilderoy, during which you spent your time hiding abroad."

"Ten points for that accusation Potter!"

Harry tilted his head to the side. "Not that I care about the points, but Hogwarts's rules state you cannot take points away for a student telling the truth. You were in Egypt, were you not between the years of 1975 to 1981? If I recall correctly, the Ministry had sent you there, but you were declared missing in action. It was during this time that you claim you did most of your 'adventures'. So not only did you hide, you also forsook your country when the Ministry ordered the Egyptian Expedition to be recalled to help in the war." Harry stated, scoffing. "And by the way, claiming you defeated some magical creatures doesn't qualify you. It just means you're a good animal hunter, at best. That's hardly the same as fighting another magically endowed individual."

"Alright Potter. If you think you're such a hotshot, then step up here with me and let's have ourselves a mock duel. If you wish to be humiliated, I will be happy to help." Lockhart taunted.

Harry smiled sweetly at the Professor. "Your terms?" He asked, stepping onto the platform.

"We duel 'til one of us is knocked out. Take up your stance, Potter." He spat vehemently.

Harry bowed mockingly, shooting the blonde a cocky grin, before standing upright. As he expected, a silver stream of light was already making its way towards him. Behind it, he could see its caster smirking triumphantly at him.

With disinterest, Harry raised his left glove, leaving the spell hovering in midair, before vanishing. "A memory charm...how...distasteful." Harry drawled. Before Lockhart could cast another spell, Harry had sent two towards him.

"**PROTEGO!**" A dark red shield appeared before Gilderoy, deflecting the two cutting spells to either side.

Ready to launch his own counterattack, Lockhart dropped the shield, only to have to sidestep another incoming **Diffindo**. It shot past him, and hit the table behind. As if on cue, the three tables hit by the cutting spells collapsed in synchrony.

Lockhart paid them no heed, and returned his attention to the upstart. "Checkmate, Gilderoy."

"What are you-" Before he could finish, the random severed parts of the three tables slammed into the man from three sides, knocking him out instantly.

The room became deathly , someone spoke up. "What the bloody hell just happened?"

Harry glanced at the perpetrator, annoyed. "That, my dear blind friend, was me beating Blondie. Really now, keep your eyes open, or you'll miss all sorts of things."

He turned his attention to the class. "Well, that was a rather poor example of a duel, but it will have to do I suppose. Anyone else up for a round?" Unsurprisingly, no one rose to the challenge. "No one? Really?" Harry frowned, shaking his head in disappointment. "It is a sad day when Gryffindors do not charge brashly into action."

Neville snorted. "This coming from the guy who provoked a teacher to fight him?"

Harry raised a brow at him. "I'll have you know this was a calculated risk on my part. I didn't just decide spontaneously to fight him."

"What was the point of this anyway?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Partly for the heck of it. I was bored so I had to think of something interesting to do. Partly for a practical demonstration so you lot can learn something in this class. Who can tell me what he did wrong?"

"He didn't watch his surroundings. And he paused in casting, giving you an opening. You, on the other hand, kept laying the pressure so he couldn't regain offensive momentum." Neville answered, a pensive look settling on his face.

Harry nodded. "That's right. Another mistake of his was being too sure. He didn't bother moving or using proper form in the fight, and it limited his movement when I send those tables to crush him. Never underestimate your opponent." Harry said emphatically.

"What makes you such an expert in Duelling, Potter?" Someone asked haughtily.

"Would you care to go a round Nott?" Harry asked politely. He smirked when the boy shook his head. "I'm not claiming to be an expert. I just know more than that incompetent teacher of ours."

"Harry! You'll get in trouble for insulting teachers! We could lose the House Cup!" Harry looked for the source of the voice, identifying it as Susan Bones.

He shrugged. "So what? It's just a stupid cup." Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded. "Think about it. What do you get when you win the cup? Bragging rights during the train ride back home? Your house colors hanging in the Great Hall for one night? Showing your superiority over the other houses?" The students nodded hesitantly at each point he enumerated.

"And you think that is worth being a teacher's pet for an entire year?" Harry asked, standing up. There were even fewer heads nodding now. "The point system as created to award those who _follow _the rules, even the stupid ones. The cup is nothing but a glorified goblet, and not a very expensive one at that. You don't even get to take it home. If you really want your house colors on the Great Hall, just arrange it with a prank. The Weasley twins do it every other week!

"As for your bragging rights, there's not much of a point is there?" Seeing their confused looks, Harry continued. "Malfoy, do you have any friends outside Slytherin?"

"Of course not." He spat.

"So chances are you don't sit with any non-Slytherins during the train ride back home?" Draco frowned at him, nodding.

"Macmillan, how about you? Or you Finnegan?" Each one in turn confirmed they rarely sat with any outside their house. "See my point? You don't see them because you don't sit with them. Who are you supposed to brag to? Your fellow housemates who also _won the cup _with you?" He asked sarcastically. "Fact is, pretty much all of you waste that opportunity as well. As for showing 'superiority', the only thing you show is how you are more obedient then them." Harry paused then added an afterthought. "That or how much of a suck-up you are. It doesn't prove your acclaimed superiority in intelligence, magical or physical strength, skill, courage, loyalty, cunning, or even social status!

"Face it, the cup is a stupid gimmick that the Headmaster got all of you caught up in." Harry finished triumphantly as he saw many pondering over his words seriously. His exulted feeling was destroyed by what happened next.

"I still want the cup!" Someone shouted form behind. A chorus of affirmation followed.

Harry groaned to himself, walking back to his seat. "I study with the bloody sheep." He muttered. He felt a sudden throbbing pain below his ribs.

"Watch what you say." Hannah hissed again, confirming she did indeed elbow him. Harry shot a dark look at her, before walking out.

W_e need a new Duelling instructor whom I hope is competent. It'd be real bothersome if I have to keep knocking out a new teacher everyday in order to learn something around this freaking school. I mean come on, it took me four spells to knock out this idiot. Even at my state, I could probably cast fifty average strength spells in a fight. _

"Harry, where are you going?" Neville shouted behind him, breaking his musing.

"To my next class. I've got Transfiguration with the Lions." Harry called back.

"Oh, alright." A few minutes passed before he realized what his friend just said. "Wait a minute I'm in Gryffindor!" Neville realized, running after his friend. The rest of the class came to similar conclusions and began running out the room to get to their next class, leaving their unconscious and battered instructor alone to sleep.

* * *

**Transfiguration**

"Class, welcome to Transfiguration." McGonagall stated obviously. "Today, we will attempt an inanimate to living transformation. The key to transfiguration, as all of you should be aware of, is intent and will. Ms. Bones, would you care to tell us what the first step of Transfiguration is?"

"Um...know...what you want to do?" She half asked, half said.

"Are you asking me or telling me Ms. Bones?"

"The first step is 'know what you want to do'." She answered more certainly this time.

"Very good. Who can tell me the other three steps?"

"Visualize what you want to do. Intend what you want to do. Do it." Harry said, raising a finger for each step.

McGonagall smiled kindly at him. "Very good, Mr. Potter. Ten points to Hufflepuff. I see you inherited your father's talent. Class, you must transform your desks into sheep before the period ends. Begin."

Harry watched disinterestedly as his classmates tried - and failed - to do the assigned work. After fifteen minutes, a student ran in the classroom, handed McGonagall a note, and ran off again. Harry turned his attention to the stern woman as soon as he heard her footsteps drawing closer to his desk. "Is there something I can do for you?" He asked, brow raised.

"Why are you not doing your assigned work?"

Harry waved his wand lazily over the desk, instantly turning it into a sheep. An instant later, he halted his use of magic, thereby reverting the animal back into the oaken desk automatically. For effect, Harry knocked on the desk twice. "I see you have mastered it. Now, perhaps you can explain why I just received a report from Professor Lockhart that you disrespected him in his class?" She asked, her voice becoming rather shrill.

"It's not disrespect if I tell him the truth. Is it my fault the truth hurts? The man's an adult for goodness sake. If he can't handle facts than I don't think he's fit to be in this school _at all._"

"What happened." She demanded more than asked.

"I asked him what his qualifications were. When he could not answer properly, he challenged me to a duel. As I am here unharmed, I think we can safely assume I beat him soundly in that."

"And if he decides to sue you for libel or assault? What then, Mr. Potter?"

"Then he would be a greater idiot than I thought he was. If he makes this publicly known, people will question how he did his so called 'achievements' if he got beat by me, a fourteen-year old. Libel is not a case since I can prove everything I said using Public records and books he published himself. As for assault, it has the least credibility to it. According to Pureblood traditions _and _Wizengamot ruling, anything goes in a duel. If I chose to off the man, no one would bat an eyelash in court. Certainly not the Malfoys or the other conservatives. They'd be hypocrites to do so."

"You're rather sure of yourself aren't you? Well, just be careful. I'd hate for a student as promising like you to be brought down because you were too brash." McGonagall went to supervise the other students, leaving her "prodigy" alone.

Harry watched her leave, then examined his gloves. Sighing, he grabbed his wand and began engraving more runes onto the gloves in an even larger circle.

* * *

**Herbology**

The combined group of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors trudged through the dirt to get to the Greenhouses. Professor Sprout was waiting for them outside, as usual. Somehow, Harry found himself walking at the front of the group, accompanying his overzealous Gryffindor friend, Neville. "I think you're going to really like this class Harry." He said, practically bouncing up and down.

"We're going to learn how to murder people using plants. What fun." Harry answered dryly.

Neville frowned at him. "Not everything in Hogwarts is teaching you how to murder people."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts teaches you how to defend yourself form being murdered, preferably by murdering the guy before he can off you. Transfiguration is hiding the body. Charms is about making it seem like suicide. Potions deals with the cloak and dagger routine, and Herbology teaches you the _au naturale_ method. History of Magic tells you of all the past killing methods to give you some ideas. Arithmancy lets you compute the probability of success. Ancient Runes is about making the death seem 'mystical'. Care of Magical Creatures is so you can blame creatures for what you did. That or sicking dangerous animals on your unfortunate victims. Muggle Studies so you can use conventional Muggle weaponry, which is much more effective mind you. Muggles are killing _machines_. They've turned it into an art. Oh, and Divination is so you can predict the best way to kill them. Did I miss anything?"

Neville rolled his eyes as his quirky friend ranted about Hogwarts being a school of murder. "Aren't we morbid?"

"I'm just saying, Hogwarts is a school for magical assassins. Every subject literally helps, in some way, to empower you to kill."

"Alright, what about Astronomy?" He asked smugly.

"Um...sending people to die in outer space?"

Neville smirked at him. "You can do better than that."

Harry chose to ignore him for the rest of the class. Even though they were partners.

* * *

**Lunch**

"Hey, Potter."

Harry turned to the source. "Really Hannah? I'm back to Potter? Just the other night you called me Harry. And I thought we had something special." Harry sighed wistfully.

"Well that was before you lost us thirty points on your first day of classes." She growled. Cedric spun around, looking at him in horror.

"You lost us _thirty _bloody points?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Seriously? We've been over the point system being a teacher's pet contest. Besides, cut me some slack, I got ten points from McGonagall didn't I? And a further twenty because I was teamed up with Neville during the Herbology practical."

"Whatever. Justin and Ernie wanted me to ask you if you wanted to join our study group."

"Why didn't they ask me personally?"

"I doubt anyone is going to talk to you for a while after that stunt you pulled with Lockhart."

"You're talking to me." Harry pointed out.

"That's because I'm not scared of you."

"But I sense angry at me. Why?" Harry stared at her, before his eyes widened in realization. "You're mad because I showed up Lockhart aren't you? You actually had a crush on the man!" He concluded smugly.

Hannah turned beet red and scowled at him. "Just one question though Hannah. Did you like him because of his smile or his hair?"

"If you weren't so bloody good at dueling I'd hex you right now." She muttered darkly.

"But I'm very good at it, so you won't anyway." Giving Harry her customary goodbye scowl, she left.

"Is that scowl permanent Hannah? Because you look a lot prettier when you're smiling." Harry called out to her retreating form cheekily.

"Was taunting her really necessary?" Cedric asked.

"No. But it was fun."

Cedric nodded. "Right, well, Quidditch tryouts will be this afternoon, after last period. Do you have a broom?"

"Nope. I'll just borrow a school broom."

"Those aren't exactly reliable."

"It'll make things more interesting a the very least."

Potions class proved to be an interesting affair with the Ravenclaws, especially since Snape's first words to Harry weren't "You look like your father. I don't like your father."

Instead they were "Twenty points to Hufflepuff, Mr. Potter."

"Is it for my dashing looks, my megawatt smile or my charisma?" Harry asked.

"Its for wiping the floor with the blonde idiot." Snape said, ignoring his jibes.

"You're awarding him points for attacking a teacher?" Hannah asked incredulously.

Snape paused, as if to think it through, then decided. "Yes, I suppose I am. Let's call it 'for showing remarkable ingenuity, courage, and skill in the face of uncertain odds' and leave it at that. Good work, Potter. I'm sure you're father will be proud. Beating up a teacher on your first day."

"Yes, I was thinking of him when I planned it. Thought he'd find it interesting. My mum will probably kill me though. By the way, they send their regards. Is the wedding still a go?"

"We're pushing through with it." Snape answered, noticing that the class's attention was solely on their conversation. "Alright, today we will be brewing..."

Harry automatically tuned him out. _Ok, so Snape isn't a a git to me at least. That's good._

Charms proved to be amusing, in contrast to the relatively peaceful Potions class. Without the snide remarks or the glare of doom, most of the students managed to brew "acceptable" potions. Although it wouldn't be potions if at least one Cauldron didn't blow up. I mean where would Snape get his entertainment during class if he didn't purposely sabotage someone's work just to see if they could fix the damage?

No, in contrast, Charms was much more rowdy and destructive. "Class, today we will be reviewing animations!" Flitwick squeaked. He waved his wand, and hundreds of toy soldiers appeared before him on the floor. "Animation is a complex part of charms, and it is very difficult. I expect most of you to have mastered it by now, especially since we've been practicing since last year." With a swish, the toy soldiers snapped to life, standing at attention before the professor. Another swish, and they began marching by rank and file. "You're task for today is to animate enough toy soldiers to defeat the ones I've already animated. First house to get a soldier to touch me wins! Let the games begin!" He said, standing on his table excitedly.  
**  
**Instinctively, students clumped up together by house and began grabbing for various toys strewn around the classroom to animate. Moments later, the classroom became a veritable battlefield, with plastic arms and legs strewn across the floor. In the midst of all this, Harry watched the students attempt to break through the ring of plastic men-at-arms. After a good thirty minutes of doing nothing, Harry noticed that the Slytherin soldiers and the Hufflepuff soldiers were no attacking each other, the Professor's animations had been powered down. Now, it was a fight for dominance between the two houses.

"Harry, stop doing nothing and help us!" Hannah shrieked.

Harry raised a brow at her. "I was under the impression that you were angry at me?"

"If you help us win, I'll forgive you. Now animate those toys quickly!"

"Wow, Hufflepuffs really take this pride thing _way _too seriously. Besides, what makes you think I know how to animate? I wasn't hear last year to learn remember?"

"You're a bloody prodigy! You're mother is Lily Potter. Figure it out!"

Harry sighed. "Really Hannah, your swearing is unbecoming of a lady. Didn't your mother teach you better manners?" Harry asked, wagging a finger at her. Flicking his wand, he levitated a toy soldier and banished it towards the diminutive professor, smacking him in the forehead.

The classroom went silent for the umpteenth time that day because of something Harry might or might not have done. Then, the most unexpected thing happened. "Very good, Mr. Potter! An excellent example of thinking outside the box! Using previously learned charms to compensate for your inadequate education to win! Twenty points to Hufflepuff."

Harry groaned to himself. "At this rate, I'm going to win the suck up cup by myself." He muttered.

Hannah frowned at him. "Most people would be proud of that fact."

"I'm not most people."

And by Ancient Runes, everyone in school knew of what Harry had did to Lockhart.

"Mr. Potter! I've been expecting you all day!" The unknown professor said. "But where are my manners? I am Professor Bathsheda Babbling. I've heard quite a lot about you."

"All good things I hope."

"Oh, I don't care much or your reputation as a troublemaker."

"Troublemaker?"

"The Lockhart incident, Mr. Potter. While I don't approve of your actions, I will not deny your invention intrigues me. If you don't mind, I was quite hoping to get a chance to look at your gloves!"

Harry extended his hands so she could inspect said instruments. "Simply marvelous! Your mother helped I suppose?" Harry nodded dumbly to the Professor, taken aback by her eagerness. "Yes, yes, brilliant design. Excellent rune use." She stopped her musings, and stared Harry in the eye. "You will do quite well here Mr. Potter. Speak to me sometime this week and we can begin discussing your creations and how to improve them."

Harry bowed slightly at the praise. "Thank you, Professor."

She turned her attention back to the class and frowned. "There are less of you than I expected. Where is Ms. Granger?" Harry looked around. There were only six of them in the class currently, professor included.

"I heard she was in the Hospital Wing. Some mishap during Ravenclaw Potions." A boy who donned the Ravenclaw robes answered.

"Very well. Thank you, Mr. Goldstein."

After the last class had ended, Harry had come to several conclusions. Firstly, Lockhart was smarter in this world in a "I will crush you by destroying your reputation" kind of way. The man was definitely a Slytherin, given his preference to use social and political methods instead of open confrontation. Second, his professors were of two minds on the matter. Some, like Snape, openly approved of his actions. Others denounced him for it. Yet all of them were impressed in one way or another. Third, the changes in this world were vast. Many small details escaped him, and not all the changes could be found in books. And lastly, Harry was born for Quidditch.

"Alright! Everyone gather around!" Cedric ordered. "I want all Chasers in the air now! Five laps around the field!" Five figures hastily broke away from the main group and took to the air to as was instructed. Whilst flying, Cedric's words to the others faded over the sounds of the rushing wind. Adjusting his grip on the Comet 360 he had "borrowed" from the school, he accelerated to full speed.

_So if there are five of us, then I only need to beat two others to get in. Let's see...we have Preece, Macavoy, Appleby, and Summers. Preece is a veteran so he's a shoe in. Same goes for Summers. Macavoy has some talent, and Appleby is pathetic._Harry thought disdainfully, speeding past that player in particular.

After the laps, they proceeded to the shooting portion. "Chasers, each of you try to make five shots past Fleet. We'll start with Preece."

Harry watched each of his fellow Chaser aspirants go through the motions of catching, then shooting the ball, observing them all the while. Preece had made four shots, and his last one missed by chance. Summers, unsurprisingly, got a five, while Macavoy received a four after failing to catch a pass that was thrown too high. Appleby made two shots and completely missed the others.

"Potter! You're up!" Immediately, the first Quaffle went soaring into the air, aimed to arrive a few meters in front of Harry. Without a thought, he sped up to catch the Quaffle. Without even blinking, he executed a barrel roll to confuse the Keeper and threw the ball into the right most hoop. As soon as he had released, another Quaffle came rushing towards him. With the Keeper out of position, it was an easy thing to make the ball go through the left most hoop. The third shot went through the center after Harry had faked. With the fourth, Harry decided to be a bit more gutsy with his shots, and charged the Keeper head on. The nervous Keeper kept his ground and prepared for impact, but at the last moment, Harry pulled up sharply, and threw the ball past the surprised Keeper.

Unfortunately, the next Quaffle thrown was too low. Cursing himself for his luck, Harry analyzed the situation. Without hesitation, he locked his feet together, and at the same time, put his weight towards his left. It resulted in his body rotating around the broom, and with the palm of his hand, Harry managed to redirect the Quaffle into a hoop.

Harry could feel his heart throbbing in his chest rapidly. He had did it. He managed a perfect score. Around him, Harry suddenly felt very conscious as everyone in the Pitch had stopped to watch his last move.

"Bloody Hell Potter! You got guts for trying to pull that off!" Preece cried. "If that doesn't get you into the team, I'll eat my hat." The veteran Chaser said, shaking his hand. The other Chasers swarmed him, congratulating him for pulling off such a risky move. Had he timed it wrong, the heavy ball would have hit him squarely in the face, crushing bones, knocking him off his broom, and possibly ruining his smile!

**AN: Some of you might be wondering how Harry can be a "prodigy" when I've previously said he was magically weak. Well, doing magic like Transfiguration or Charms requires more control over your magical core rather than needing a lot of power. In this case where his core is weaker, it actually makes controlling magic easier. Besides, Magical strength is only considered when you need to cast a particularly strong spell (the Unforgivables, "Epic Spells", spells that are overpowered to provide greater effect, large scale or area of effect spells) or a spell that needs to be channelled (like shield charms). Aside from his greater control, Harry still has his years of education in Hogwarts and apprenticeship under Flamel form his past life, giving him a huge edge.**

**Someone left a review telling me that the length of my chapter is directly proportional to the number of review I receive per chapter. Since I made this chapter the longest so far, does that mean I will get more reviews? Let's test the hypothesis.**


	7. Interlude: Dueling Dumbledore and We Ban

**AN: Alright so not the chapter you may have been expecting, but its better than nothing...right?**

** Interlude: Dueling Dumbledore and We Band of Badgers  
**

"Hey Potter!"

Harry briefly turned his attention away from the bacon on his plate to find the source of interruption. His eyes landed on Cedric, and one of his brows shot upwards in silent response.

Cedric handed him a piece of parchment. "Congrats, you're in the team. Here's our practice schedule."

Harry took the parchment and skimmed through it. "You have any problems with it?" Cedric asked.

"This will suffice." Harry answered curtly, nodding to his Captain, before returning his gaze to the neglected food on his plate. As luck would have had it, a hawk suddenly and inconsiderately landed on his plate, dropped a letter on Harry's lap before it promptly snatched a piece of bacon and flew off.

"That's strange behavior for a hawk, Potter." Cedric commented, grinning.

Harry didn't bother dignifying that quip with a response, and deftly picked up the envelope. It was a crimson red letter, which could only mean two things in the magical world; either it was a love letter or a howler. And seeing as it was from his parents, he very much doubted it was the former.

"Might as well get on with it, I suppose." Harry muttered, tearing the envelope. The parchment inside shot up into the air, as the charms placed on it activated. A face began to appear on the parchment, and soon, the Great Hall was treated to Lily Potter's shrill voice.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Harry winced visibly, more at the volume than at the anger in the voice. "WHAT IN THE WORLD WERE YOU THINKING? ASSAULTING YOUR PROFESSOR LIKE THAT! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER! I THOUGHT I HAD RAISED YOU TO HAVE ORE MANNERS! YOUR FIRST CLASS IN SCHOOL AND ALREADY IT SEEMS YOU ARE DOING YOUR UTMOST BEST TO DISGRACE YOURSELF! YOUR FATHER WILL HAVE WORDS WITH YOU, YOUNG MAN!"

Harry groaned at the prospect of getting berated by his dad as well. Turning his head, he could see his brother and sister both sitting at the Gryffindor Table, smirking at him in a "You're going to get it now" sort of way. "HEY HARRY, THIS IS YOUR DAD. SORRY IF THE VOLUME IS TOO LOUD, BUT LILY SET THE VOLUME TO THE MAX AND I CAN'T REVERSE IT. ANYWAYS, I'D JUST LIKE TO TELL YOU THAT WHAT YOU DID IS WRONG. KEEP IT UP! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU! THE MARAUDERS LIVE AGAIN!"

Harry blinked. "That was unexpected." He muttered to no one in particular.

"JAMES! DO NOT ENCOURAGE THE BOY! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR OF YOU GETTING UP TO YOUR SCHEMES AGAIN YOUNG MAN!" The letter ended the show by blowing up in all its fiery glory.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hannah smirking at him. "I told you that you would get in trouble for hexing the professor."

"Don't you mean the 'handsome and dashing Professor Lockhart?'" Harry said, grinning when her face suddenly resembled a tomato. "And I'm not really in trouble. My dad seems to think I'm awesome for doing it. My mum probably needs some time to cool off. If all goes well, everything should be right as rain by the time I go back for the Holidays." Harry said, not at all worried.

"So Hannah, tell me. What are _you _planning to ensnare Professor Blondie?" Harry asked mockingly.

"I was hoping to offer your head on a platter to him. That's sure to get me into his good graces at the very least." She said.

Harry stared at her, not sure if she was actually thinking about it. "Relax Harry, it was a joke. You'd think someone as crude as you would be able to take a few seeing as you certainly like to dish it out." She said, rolling her eyes.

"Jokes I can take, Hannah. Death threats are a whole different thing. I have to look out for myself."

"Cedric wasn't kidding when he said you really sound like a Slytherin."

"Better a snake than a marshmallow."

"So much for Hufflepuff loyalty." She huffed.

"If I remember correctly, you yourself claimed that it was my honest and impartial observations that made me a good arbiter. Well, consider this as my completely unbiased assessment then."

"Touché." She paused to leer at his plate. "You really should finish up eating. We have Defense Against the Dark Arts in five minutes."

"Typical Hannah Abbott, so concerned with schedules and never taking time to appreciate the small things in life." Harry said in faux condescension, shaking his head. "Although I do wonder if Lockhart is still going to teach us today." He said more seriously, munching on a bit of buttered toast. Suddenly, he stood up, a feral grin replacing his previously pensive look. "It should be fun to find out."

Hannah shuddered at his words. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Honestly Hannah, stop being so paranoid. You're starting to sound like Alastor Moody. Now hurry up, weren't you the one who wanted to see Blondie?" Harry called out, not even slowing his gait. His wand was spinning in his hand, as had become his habit.

Hannah scowled at his back, before hurrying to catch up with her "friend". Most of the third year Hufflepuffs, as if on cue, scampered after Harry like wolves following their alpha. Hannah resisted the urge to connect her palm with her face when she realized this. Honestly! Just because he was a prodigy, scary and a tad bit domineering does not mean that he was automatically their leader. The way they were acting now and one would think they had gathered under his banner or something to that effect.

"Harry?" She called out nervously.

"Yes?"

"Are you aware that most of our batch mates in our house are following you?"

"Are you sure they're not following you? A fair deal of them seem to be blokes and you are rather pretty." Harry mused, coming to a halt. Following his lead, everyone stopped dead in their tracks, waiting for him.

Hannah blushed at his praise, if it could be called that. "I'm positive it's you. Are you going to do something about it?"

"Am I supposed to?" Harry asked, confused and amused at the same time.

"People might think you're the next Dark Lord or something if you don't put an end to this."

Harry snorted. "A Dark Lord in Hufflepuff? That's ridiculous." Hannah gave him a glare that conveyed "I'll murder you for that."

Harry raised his hands in faux surrender. "Alright, I'll admit that was a bit prejudiced of me."

"It was."

"Anyway, I always did want to start my own gang. We could get matching tattoos or something and strut around school." Harry said contemplatively. "Then again, it is such a hassle." He turned to face his "followers", all of whom were paying their complete attention to him. "Alright, you lot. Why are all of you following me?"

"Because you're our leader!" Someone shouted.

Harry frowned. "I am?" They nodded vigorously. "Pleased as I am to have my own minions, how did you manage to figure that out?"

"Because of what you did yesterday." Another informed him.

"What? You mean beating up Lockhart?" Harry snorted. "That's not much. I bet half of you could have managed, albeit not as well as I did. But you still would have managed."

"That part was impressive, and partly entertaining, but we're referring to what you did in general." Harry raised a brow at them, urging them to elaborate. "The advanced runework, the glowering praise, the number of points you won _despite _baiting the teachers, your skills in dueling, and managing to get into our Quidditch team. Heck, you even managed to scare a Slytherin. And you accomplished all that even though you've technically only been to school for a month and four days." A voice Harry recognized to belong to Ernie Macmillan elaborated.

"If you could do that much, think of what you could do given a year or two. You could be the thing this House needs to finally get some respect around here." Justin continued. Those around them started nodding in agreement.

"You guys figured that I was a prodigy with an attitude who may or may not bring some glory to our House and you decide to stalk me?"

"It seems that way." Hannah remarked dryly.

"Right, so why are you guys following me?" Harry asked again, genuinely curious.

"Because you're our leader!" Someone shouted again, followed by more nodding of heads.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, getting a bit irked by the vicious cycle that was starting to happen. "Why is it you've suddenly formed a gang to follow me around, is what I mean. And why are you all so at ease with this whole let's elect Harry Potter as Supreme Overlord thing."

"It's tradition." Harry stared incredulously at them. "Whenever someone really powerful or talented arises in Hufflepuff, we take to following them around. Every batch has one eventually. Take Cedric Diggory for example. He always has a huge crowd with him because he's their leader. Without one, the other houses would eat us alive. Do you know how many of us get bullied by the other houses because they think we're a house full of cast-offs? We're 'Puffs. We have to stick together, and preferably around a powerful person."

Harry looked gobsmacked. "How come I've never heard of this before?" _Now that I think about it, Hufflepuffs always did seem to clump together. _

"Well, you're the first Hufflepuff of your family, aren't you? This isn't exactly something we shout out so everyone can hear." Justin said, shrugging.

"Okay, so all of you are just going to follow me around to see if I do anything spectacular and act as my personal cheering squad?"

"I think that's more or less it Potter." Hannah answered.

"Now, now Hannah. Don't be bitter that you didn't get your own gang." Harry chided. "Say, is there anyone here opposed to getting matching tattoos?"

"What is a tha-two?" One of the many unfamiliar purebloods asked.

"Sort of like an ink marking. Right, let's get to class first then. I don't want to be late just be cause I found out I inadvertently began my own gang. Dad will be so proud." Harry said, wiping a fake tear from his eye as he began walking towards class again. Like a well-oiled machine, the entire body followed behind him, and only Hannah walked beside Harry.

"You're seriously going to play along with this?" Hannah asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged. "It would be cruel to turn them away." Harry replied, opening the door to their class. "Ladies first." He said, waving her in. She glared at him, but went inside anyway. Harry entered after her followed by his minions.

What lay inside was surprising. Dumbledore watched them enter with a twinkle in his eye and Lockhart was surprisingly absent. "How nice of you to join us Mr. Potter. I see you've managed to gather your own following, not uncommon among your House. Take your seat."

Harry sat beside Hannah, while his minions surrounded them so that he was in the center.

"Professor Lockhart is absent today because he had to speak with his solicitors due to urgent affairs." Dumbledore tilted his head towards Harry as he said this. "So, I will be acting as a substitute until he returns. Now, what have you learned so far?"

"Never underestimate your opponent." Neville supplied.

"That's better than nothing I suppose. Mr. Potter, would you care to join me on stage?"

Harry groaned. Lockhart was one thing, Dumbledore was another. "For what purpose, Headmaster?"

"Why to duel, of course! I haven't fought in quite a while, but I may prove to be a challenge for you yet." The aged man said, smiling not unkindly.

_Karma's a bitch. _Harry thought grimly, as he stood to face Dumbledore. "Ready? Begin!" Dumbledore exclaimed.

Harry immediately raised his left glove, ready to deflect any incoming spells, while his wand was pointed at Dumbledore, ready to cast a shield if needed. And he waited for Dumbledore's attack.

And waited.

And waited.

Harry blinked, uncertain why Dumbledore hadn't done anything aside from watching him with that twinkle in his eye. They both stood impassive for a good two minutes, before Harry got impatient. "**Diffindo**" he muttered. The dark red spell shot out of his wand, only to slam into an invisible wall in front of Dumbledore.

"Care to try again, Mr. Potter?"

Harry blinked again. _Is Dumbledore mocking me? _He shifted his feet into a better position, before launching a Blasting Hex at the elder. The stream of light, once again, hit the invisible wall.

"Come now, Mr. Potter. I expected more from the student who bested one of my staff in combat."

"Even if that man had no experience in fighting?"

"And you're implying you have this experience?" Harry stayed silent at that, refusing to compromise himself by answering. "I'm not sure what to make of you, Mr. Potter. You are quite the enigma to me."

Harry tilted his head curiously, but did not speak. He was well aware that everyone was waiting for him to make his move. Sighing, he pocketed his wand, to everyone's surprise, and bowed to Dumbledore. "I yield, Headmaster."

Albus's eyebrow shot up like a rocket. "We've barely begun!" He remarked loudly, but not unkindly.

"Fight only the battles you can win."

"A wise saying, Mr. Potter, but why do you say you cannot win?"

"You've managed to conjure an invisible wall, most likely of transparent metal. In any event, it must be something strong enough to withstand that blasting hex I sent you without even leaving a scratch. With that in mind, you could most likely defeat me by sending transfigured objects flying towards me. The only reason you have not finished me off yet - and you are perfectly capable of finishing this anytime, mind you - is because you want to see what I can do and I am a student in your school. If I was, say, a Death Eater, I would be dead by now or worse." Harry analyzed coolly.

"An accurate and highly uncanny analysis, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore followed Harry's actions by pocketing his own wand in return and bowing slightly, a sign that he had graciously accepted his surrender. "You are wise beyond your years, Mr. Potter." His twinkle was in overdrive now.

Harry shrugged indifferently at the adulation. "Not really. I'd suppose many would rather drop their wands before facing you."

"True. Take your seat, Mr. Potter, and we will begin the lesson." Harry obeyed immediately. "What Mr. Potter has said is correct. The first rule of fighting is to avoid it when possible. Of course, one cannot completely abstain from violence. This isn't a perfect world after all. There are three general ways to defend yourself. Who'd like to guess? Mr. Longbottom?"

"I suppose dodging a spell would be one way sir."

"You are correct. Anyone else care to try? How about young Draco?"

Malfoy sneered. "Shield charms should be obvious enough."

Dumbledore, if he was affected by his attitude, never let it show. "Also correct. The third, Ms. Bones?"

"I suppose blocking the spells with something?"

"Very good. Each method is imperfect when used alone. Shield charms drain your energy quickly and can be broken by powerful spells. It also cannot block the killing curse. Dodging is good, but in places where movement can be constricted, it is difficult. It is also physically tiring and far more risky. Area of effect spells can also diminish the advantage of this method. Blocking, whether by moving behind something or using transfiguration, takes energy as well and more control and coordination. The key to a good defense is to use each in moderation, and never relying on one alone. Now how about a demonstration? Everyone form a circle around me." With a flick of his wand, every table, chair, and article of furniture was moved to the side, leaving a large area clear.

"Quickly now! I am an old man, and I don't have all day." The students hastily formed a circle around their headmaster, some fidgeting nervously, others looking uncomfortable. "Whoever can manage to land a hit on me will get an O for today's marks." The students looked at him in shock. "Go on, don't be shy now! I didn't survive two wars without learning a thing or two."

Even the Slytherins looked afraid of following those particular instructions. _Must be their sense of self-preservation at work._Harry thought. With due haste, he sent a few well-aimed stunners around the Headmaster, hoping to limit his mobility. The Hufflepuffs quickly followed suit after their appointed leader and the Slytherins followed just for kicks. A cacophony of spells, hexes and curses of varying deadliness were sent flying with the intent to hit the Headmaster.

Their attempts had no such luck. Barely moving his wand, the air around Dumbledore was suddenly filled with conjured objects, rotating around him at breakneck speeds as if he were a planet, and they his satellites. Th stunners barely got within a foot of him before each was intercepted. "What I am doing now is called the Whirlwind!" Dumbledore yelled gleefully at his students, relishing in the flabbergasted looks. "A most excellent example of blocking, although quite difficult to control." He remarked, watching as several more spells attempted to get through the defensive debris.

Harry frowned, and stopped to analyze the situation. Clearly, the method he and his batch mates were using had a slim chance at success. A reevaluation of tactics was required. With a quick twirl of his wand, one of the previously discarded tables was banished towards Dumbledore. The desired affect was achieved when many of the debris circling the man was destroyed or pushed aside by the larger object. Harry, determined to capitalize on his move, sent several stunners following after the table.

Sadly, a moment too late. Reacting instinctively, Dumbledore had blasted the table away and erected a shield to deflect the spells. Harry, still frowning, became all too aware that he was rapidly losing energy, and could not maintain his volley of spell fire. An unfortunate result of his weakened state was his lack on endurance in fights of attrition. A weakness he would have to rectify for the upcoming Dueling Tournament he intended to win.

Tightening his grip on his wand, he twirled it above his head before bringing it out in front of him and holding the tip of it against his opposite palm. Without a second to lose, a series of runes materialized in front of Harry, giving off a faint eerily orange glow. They flashed brightly thrice, before disappearing. All of a sudden, the various debris that were still circling had a rune engraved into them. In unison, they dropped to the floor loudly. Dumbledore seemed vaguely surprised, though showed no ado to it.

"An impressive magical disruption field, but I'm afraid you're not the only one who knows how to manipulate runes." He said, adding his own set of inscriptions to the debris.

Harry watched him work with curiosity before realizing what he had did as every spell suddenly fizzled out of existence around him. "You reversed the directions and made it into a disruption shield." Harry accused.

"Guilty as charged." Dumbledore replied, shrugging. "It also seems time's up." He said, eying the grandfather clock nearby. "This has been most entertaining. I can't remember having this much fun in years. I do hope the fifth years will be as much of a challenge! Now run along children. Don't be late for classes." He shooed them away.


	8. Revelations

**Chapter 6: Revelations**

"Potter, what are we doing here?" Hannah asked irately.

"We're back to last names _again_Abbott? You know, by the see-sawing nature our relationship seems to be taking we might never become good friends." Harry said, taking his seat.

"I find myself curious why you're here as well, Harry." Neville Longbottom asked, curious but otherwise unbothered by Harry's presence at the Lion's Table.

Harry frowned at him. "Am I not allowed to eat with my friends who happen to be in other houses once every so often? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get rid of me." Harry said, pretending to be hurt.

Ginny and Hannah rolled their eyes at his antics. "Hannah, do please take a seat." Harry said, patting the empty seat beside him.

"Why would I do something like that?"

"For one, it is unbecoming of a gentleman such as me," she snorted loudly, "to sit while in the presence of a lady who is standing. The only way to normalize the situation would be to have you sit down as well."

"Wouldn't your _code of chivalry_ also dictate that you're supposed to sit _after _the lady is seated?" Hannah asked, smirking at his slip up.

Harry waved away her question. "Give a bloke a break. At the very least I'm trying here, unlike most of the school." He said, just before standing. "You are, of course, correct, my lady. Do forgive me for my transgression and take a seat?"

She raised a brow at him. "And if I should choose to return to our House Table instead?"

"Then I shall sorely miss you! But alas, if it came down between you or my friends in the Lion's den, I'm afraid they take precedence. Mostly because I sit with you everyday, as it is. Besides Neville is a far better conspirator in my schemes than you are. No offence intended." Harry said dramatically, making vivid hand gestures as he spoke.

Ginny snorted, making no attempt to conceal her mirth at the absurdity of the situation he was creating. "Do stay, Hannah, if only to spite him more. You shall make this meal far more entertaining." Ginny said, mockingly mimicking Harry's "regal voice".

"Oh very well, if you insist I stay, then I suppose I could humor you. It is becoming quite clear to me that I am indispensable to the containment of the bane that is Harry Potter." She said, sighing dramatically, taking the seat Harry had offered her. "The sacrifices I make for the greater good!" She exclaimed theatrically.

Harry sighed at them. "Mock me all you want, you shan't get a rise out of me, enlightened as I am to the codes of proper conduct." Harry said, seemingly unaffected by their teasing. If one looked closely and at the right angle though, a slight, upward tug on the corner of his lips could be seen. Becoming slightly more sober - and as this is Harry, that is to say, not that serious at all – he turned to Neville. "I heard you got into the team as reserve Beater. Congratulations!" He the hand shook of the boy.

"How did you find that out so quickly?" Neville asked, looking positively stumped.

"The Weasley Twins told me." Harry said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They seemed quite pleased to have you as their protégé. Personally, I think they want to pass on their dastardly ways to you, such as learning how to strike someone dead using your bat."

Neville groaned. "Not this ridiculous assassination school issue again! That has no factual basis and you know it."

Harry scoffed at that…that _heretic_. "There's plenty of evidence that you are simply turning a blind eye too."

"Figured out how Astronomy works into this yet?"

"Yes, obviously if each subject had a purpose, the Ministry would begin to suspect something. Therefore to ward off suspicion, the crafty Headmasters of this fine, if somewhat _shady_institute decided it would do a splendid job. And seeing as how no one suspects but me, I'd say it has filled that role marvelously."

"You're just making this up." Neville accused.

"I am hurt that you accuse me of such! Hannah, why have _you _made me eat here? You've been helping _him _haven't you?" Harry jabbed his finger offensively from Hannah to Neville with some highly accusatory undertones.

"Because our fellow housemates wish to have nothing to do with you, therefore, you've imposed self exile on yourself for the week." She answered dryly.

"Don't be daft woman! I'm their boss; they're dying to have even the slightest interaction with me. You could learn a thing or two from them you know. You should feel honored I have decided to continuously grace your presence." Harry said arrogantly, puffing his chest for effects.

"And yet you do not refute the self-exile part." Ginny remarked observantly. "Which means…"

"Which means he got tired of getting badgered every moment of his waking life. Knowing that the others would be too shy to follow him here, he sought refuge with you Lions."

"Harry, you devilishly cunning Hufflepuff! Who knew you could be so…so utterly _devious. _You would make old Salazar proud. I am slightly put out, though, that visiting us was of secondary importance to you." Neville said.

"Believe what you will." Harry said, piling his plate with food.

"Harry, how did you make your glove?" Ginny asked as her attention was drawn back to the item in question once again.

"As I've told you on the train, I had lots of help. And trying to explain it to you would be pointless unless you had some grounding in Runes. I barely understood it myself." Harry said, cutting up a piece of steak to bite size proportions.

"Then would you mind teaching me? I find myself rather intrigued by the subject as well."

Harry swallowed the piece of steak he was chewing before speaking. "Runes were originally invented by the Egyptians, Chinese, and Greek Civilizations during ancient times. The earliest wizards used this to channel their magic into these drawings, and Runes is the first instance of focused magic in this world. All runes are made to have only one purpose, depending on its meaning. An example would be the base rune of 'Fyr' meaning 'empower'. It can only be used to channel energy and distribute it to other runes, making it the first rune most rune masters learn.

"The use of multiple runes, also known as a rune chain, is required for runes to have any use at all. This inconvenience of having to learn multiple rune and the time it takes to create led to the invention of spells instead, which while being faster to create, are a lot less efficient in using magical energy. Are you with me so far?"

Ginny nodded tentatively. Hannah and Neville, after a moment's pause, nodded as well. "Good, now, the more complex the effect you want to create, the more runes you need." Harry said, taking off his left glove. "To create something like this," Harry raised the glove, "you would need to create a rune chain maybe twenty to thirty runes long, while most rune chains only need four or five. The advantage of runes however, is because it requires a lot less magic to use it, and results in a more powerful effect. For example," Harry flourished his wand, and began drawing in the air with it, "Fyr, for power, Fateor, for revelation, Iniuria, meaning wrong, and finally, Mentis or 'mind'." As he said the words, each rune was formed.

"The power to reveal what is wrong with the mind." Neville translated.

Harry nodded. "That's correct." Flicking his wand, the runes glowed into life before turning blood red.

"What does that color mean?" Ginny asked, eyeing the floating characters with suspicion.

"It means you're memories have been tampered with. From the looks of it, Neville also got affected." Harry said solemnly.

Neville, Ginny, and Hannah's eyes widened simultaneously. "Wha-what do you mean tampered with?" Ginny demanded, stuttering slightly from shock.

"Most likely, someone cast an 'Obliviate' on you." Harry replied calmly, taking another bite of his steak.

"Is there a way to find out who did this and a way to reverse it?" Neville demanded, pounding the table with his fist angrily.

Harry smiled wistfully, letting the runes fade in the air. "Of course there is. It might just require us to take a visit to the DMLE." He turned his head in the direction of the Hufflepuff table. "Susan!" He called out. The girl in question looked at him questioningly. "Do you have a way to get into contact with your Aunt?"

"Of course I do. She is my guardian after all." She called back.

"Could you pass along a message for me?" She gave him a thumb up. "Thanks!"

"Why would we need the DMLE?" Ginny asked.

"Because tampering with memories of a minor is illegal." Harry said with a feral grin. "And once we find out who did this, it's a one way trip to Azkaban for him. The DMLE can help track him down."

An owl suddenly swooped down and dropped a letter right in front of Harry. Coincidentally, it also landed on top of his food. Harry growled. "Bloody birds keep on ruining my meals!" He exclaimed, snatching the letter off the table, and ripping it open. He skimmed through the letter, and what he read seemed to make him even angrier, if the clenching of his hands and the narrowing of his eyes was any indication.

"What is it?" Hannah asked, a little concerned for the normally laid back boy.

"It's nothing." Harry growled, burning the letter in midair. He stood up, and stalked out of the Great Hall followed by three pairs of concerned eyes.

* * *

_Dear Madam Bones,_

_It is with a heavy heart that I find myself in need of your assistance. A day where actions as foul as this I had hoped...nay, prayed would never come. While I was dining with my friends the other day, I was asked to conduct a crash course of Runes by a dear friend of mine, Ginny Weasley. As an apprentice to the arts, I felt it was my duty to provide a sample of my craft. As luck would have had it, I used a rune chain to determine if one's mind had been tampered with._

_You can imagine my surprise when it glowed to denote that, indeed, her mind had been tampered with a memory charm. Not only that, another friend, Neville Longbottom, also seems to be affected. They have, thus, asked me to find a way to lift this burden off their shoulders in a manner most discreet, if you catch my drift. To broadcast it publicly would give the culprit time to escape, or worse, get rid of the evidence._

_I trust that you are able to keep secrets, being the head of the DMLE. I beseech you to aid us against those who choose to willingly endanger the minds of others by using a memory charm on minors without their consent. They are fortunate that there seem to be no adverse effects...yet. In line with the nature of this matter, and the secrecy and expertise involved, I would humbly recommend turning this matter over to the Department of Mysteries. With no offense intended to the Auror Corps, the Unspeakables are more qualified and able to diffuse this situation._

I hope that you shall reply with all haste.

_Harry J. Potter_  
_Heir of the Most Ancient and Valiant House of Potter _

* * *

"Mr. Potter? You wish to compete?" She asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

"Of course I'm competing. Why would I pass on such a great opportunity to earn some easy Galleons?" Harry asked, staring at Pomona Sprout as if she was an oddity for suggesting otherwise.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Overconfidence is unbecoming of a Hufflepuff, Mr. Potter."

"It isn't overconfidence if the odds are in my favor." Harry retorted.

"You are aware, Mr. Potter, that you may not use your gloves during the tournament?"

"Of course, what do you take me for? I did read the rules carefully. Ask Cedric, if you need reassurance."

Sprout turned to her prefect. "It's true Professor. I've never seen a 'Puff that could out read a Ravenclaw. For that matter, I've never seen a 'Puff able to smack down the Ravenclaws when it came to logic." Cedric stated, shaking his head.

"See, I read the rules. I am perfectly aware of what I am getting myself involved in, Professor."

"Very well, Mr. Potter. I do hope you will be careful though." She said, handing him a slip of paper. "The first round begins in a week. You are expected to be on time for your match up, Mr. Potter."

"I wouldn't dream of being late, Professor." Harry said, accepting the slip. "Now, I am wondering why it is there are so many Prefects present just to discuss the matter of my entry in this Dueling Tournament."

"Do not presume you are the only Third Year who has thought to join! I've had to speak to Ms. Abbott, Ms. Bones, and Mr. Smith as well!"

Harry waved off her indignation offhandedly. "Hannah is eager to prove herself, you'll have no luck with her. Susan Bones, I have heard, has been trained by her Aunt personally, and is also eager to test out her skills. I know you've seen her DADA marks. She got the highest marks two years running and broke the highest grade record for the subject during her first year. All that tutoring has more than paid off. What she needs now is a challenge. Smith I'm not sure about. But I'd suppose he wishes to strike out on his own.

"And while I am aware that you have spoken to others, your prefects weren't all present when you did. The very fact that you haven't even dismissed me, now that we both know I'm not backing out, means there is another issue you wish to discuss with me. I'd suggest you get on with it."

"You did not do justice to his snark in your reports, Cedric. It seems to be a lot worse than you let on." The seventh year female prefect spoke up.

Cedric shrugged. "Perhaps it seems less severe when it is directed towards someone else. It certainly was entertaining at the time."

"Right, if you lot are quite finished speaking about me as if I am not present, may I leave now?"

"We are not done. You will leave when we dismiss you." The seventh year male prefect growled. The other prefects around him nodded in agreement.

Harry raised a brow at him questioningly. "Was that supposed to be intimidating?"

"Michael, please do not give him an excuse to retort. And Harry, stop goading my prefects." Pomona ordered. Surprisingly, both men obeyed. "The reason for this assembly is to...evaluate your new found position."

Harry blinked at her stupidly. "My what?"

"Your position as head of your year." She said with total solemnity. "Surely you did not think that your getting elected would escape our notice for long did you?"

"Well, I suppose not." Harry admitted grudgingly. "But why does this concern them?" Harry asked, tilting his head towards the prefects.

"Can't you guess? You are, after all, an exceptionally bright lad."

Harry closed his eyes softly to think. "They're all leaders within their own years aren't they?" His eyes snapping wide open at the realization.

Sprout nodded. "They are. Each leader has always been the best that Hufflepuff has had to offer. It goes without saying that most are given the prefect mandate, if they choose to accept. Hence, what you are looking at right now are the student leaders of House Hufflepuff."

"And this is my formal welcome into your ranks."

"Correct. The Gryffindors have their bravery, the Slytherins their wits, and the Ravenclaws their minds. We must rely on diligence, persistence, and above all, loyalty. We must be loyal to each other, and therefore, we must act with solidarity."

"And to continue doing so would require my cooperation." Harry finished.

"Yes. One of our lesser known secrets of our house is that we have a student elected council in place. As the sole representative of your year, do you accept to our invitation?" Michael, the seventh year prefect, asked.

"I do." Harry said without hesitation. "But if I may, what is Professor Sprout's role if we are to decide on the course and actions of our House?"

"I am an arbiter in the rare case that a decision cannot be made. I act also as an adviser, but beyond that, your actions are your own. Whatever you choose to do, I will not be involved unless the lives of my charges are at risk."

"But why? The other houses-"

"What you fail to realize is that we are not the other houses. We believe that to prepare for the future is not only through education, but also by allowing us to experience. Good decisions come from experience, as they say." Cedric said.

Sprout continued. "That, and it allows me to observe how far you can go without my direct involvement. Welcome to the Synod."


	9. Interlude: Dueling Tournament, Stage 1

**Interlude: Dueling Tournament, Stage 1**

**October 9, 1993…**

Dark skies loomed ominously above the Quidditch Pitch as raindrops fell to the earth below. The place was uncharacteristically silent, despite the fact that hundreds of people were present. They all stood in rapt attention, refusing to allow anything to distract them. At the center of the field, a long table was erected, upon which sat three people. One of which was Albus Dumbledore.

The aged Headmaster stood, involuntarily commanding the gaze of everyone present. "Students," he addressed them, extending his arms wide, "welcome to the 1993 Edinburgh Dueling Tournament, Youth Division!" He paused as polite applause met his announcement. "This, as I have said before, is not only one of the preliminary challenges for the Triwizard Tournament Champion of next year, but is also an official, Ministry-sanctioned event! The winner of this Tournament will be awarded five hundred galleons. In addition, the top three finalists will be invited to compete in the National Dueling Tournament next year."

"_All of you,_" his gaze extended from left to right, including everyone, "have made your school proud. As the Headmaster of this Institute, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and one of the presiding judges, I wish all of you the best of luck. With that, let the 99th Edinburgh Youth Tournament _begin!_" He flicked his wand sharply, and several domes of light appeared throughout the field, segregating it into different sectors. He continued. "May I have the pleasure of introducing my fellow judges? To my left is International Dueling Champion and Head of Ravenclaw House, Filius Flitwick." Cheering and yells of approval broke out among the students in support for the popular professor. "And to my right is Defense against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart." There was noticeably less general enthusiasm at the announcement, although the avid shouts from his fan girls more than made up for the male population's silence.

"This Tournament, following the International Dueling Protocols, will be using the Dual Swiss System. There are one hundred and ninety eight of you, and each must compete in a series of seven duels. A win counts as one point, a draw is considered half a point, and a loss gains you no points. The top eight finalists will then be entered into an elimination round format. You may use any weapons, be it sword or wand, so long as you declare it before hand to the official presiding. Duels strictly forbid the use of Unforgivable Curses, and any Dark Curses so decreed by the Ministry. Artifacts that are charmed are also forbidden. A duel ends when one duelist yields, or is unable to continue." Dumbledore flicked his wrist with practiced ease, and hundreds of scraps of parchments flew out, one for each participant. "Your match ups." He explained.

Harry deftly snatched his parchment from the air with his left hand, skimming through it.

_#71 Harry James Potter VS #89 Neville Longbottom, Arena 81 – Referee Jonas White – Auror_

He began walking along the Arenas until he came to the one marked as "81". The referee nodded to him in acknowledgment. Harry looked around, to see duels beginning around him. His own competition had yet to arrive. It took another five minutes before Neville arrived, panting heavily.

"Sorry for the delay." He managed to get out between his gasps for air.

The Auror nodded. "It's quite alright, Mr. Longbottom. Are you ready to begin or will you need a moment to collect yourself?"

"I'm fine." He said, reigning in his breathing

"Very well, anything to declare, gentlemen?" Jonas asked.

"I do." Neville spoke up first. Harry looked at him with eyes wide. "I have a sword."

The Auror nodded. "That is acceptable. What about you Mr. Potter?"

"I have a second wand." Now it was Neville's turn to look surprised. Harry smiled at Neville while brandishing the second wand to show the Auror.

"That is also acceptable. Take your stances." He motioned to them to move to the opposite ends of the platform. "Now bow. 3…2…1…Begin!"

Harry quickly moved to one side, barely dodging a spell that had been sent his way. Another quick step allowed him to evade another stunner. "Why aren't you casting, Harry?" Neville asked, all the while trying to land a hit on the nimble boy.

"I can't really expect to win matching you blow for blow can I?" He remarked dryly as he ducked another stunner. "Weak magical core remember?"

"Oh, I suppose so." Neville paused to reply. It proved to be a critical mistake.

Seeing the lull in his casting, Harry seized the chance. He channeled his magic to his feet, allowing him to shoot forward faster than normal, closing the gap between them in seconds. To compensate, Neville brought up his sword, expecting to engage in close combat. It was only when Harry smirked that Neville figured out he had been tricked. Without missing a beat, Harry brought both his wands to bear, blasting Neville with two stunners. The two spells broke through Neville's hastily cast shield with ease, ending the fight in under a minute.

Harry took a step back and glanced at the Auror referee. "Neville Longbottom has been incapacitated. First round goes to Harry Potter. Prepare for round two!" The Auror announced, reviving Neville as he did.

Harry returned to his end of the platform and took his stance. Neville did likewise. "Bow to your opponents." The Auror instructed. "3…2…1…Begin!"

Unlike the previous round, Harry did not dodge the spells sent towards him. Instead, he shielded himself against them with one wand. With the other, he began drawing runes in rapid succession.

"I thought you couldn't match me blow for blow!" Neville hollered, blasting away at the shield with impunity. "You're smarter than this, Harry! Trying to outlast me with a shield won't do you any good!"

Harry smiled at him cheerily. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'Never interrupt your opponent when he is making a mistake?"

"I haven't. Who said that?"

"Napoleon Bonaparte, I believe."

"Sounds like a wise man to me." Neville remarked. "But you're not stupid enough to trap yourself like this."

"Who says I'm the one trapped?" Harry asked innocently, finishing another rune. Jabbing his wand, the rune chain shimmered in the air, before vanishing with a bright flash.

"What was that supposed to do?" Neville asked, refusing to let up on his barrage.

"You'll find out soon." Harry replied cryptically. "Right about…now." Every spell in the air fizzled out of existence instantaneously. Neville glared at him accusingly. "I learned a few things from Dumbledore's class. Creating the magical disruption field was one trick I picked up." Harry shrugged.

Neville brought the tip of his sword to chest level. "But you are still at a disadvantage. I am armed for non-magical combat. You are not."

His confidence was shattered when he saw the amused sparkle appear in Harry's eyes. "That would be true. But, you've already lost, Neville. See while you can no longer use magic while in this field, I can." He flicked his wrists expertly, and sent a spark out of his wand, just to prove his point. "This is just me hoping you'll step out without having to experience getting stunned again."

"You're good at this, Potter." Neville admitted aloud, sheathing his sword. "I pity whatever poor sod meets you in the next round. Well played, nonetheless."

Harry nodded diplomatically at him. "You weren't so bad yourself. If it hadn't been for my advanced knowledge of runes, I wouldn't be able to beat you."

Neville grinned at him. "Next time, I might just bring a mandrake or two to fling at you. Or perhaps summoning some plants to strangle you." He said thoughtfully.

"I look forward to that." Harry replied with a grin of his own. "And just so you know, this totally proves my assassin school theory.

"Whatever." He scoffed, waving dismissively at him. "Referee, I yield." He called out.

"Very well, Neville Longbottom forfeits the second round. Victory of this duel goes to Harry Potter. The next round will begin in thirty minutes." A slightly bemused Auror announced. Never had he seen a duel that was so...civil.

"Come on, Neville, let's go find the others." Harry beckoned to his friend.

They walked past several platforms, all of which were still subject to use. "Seems like we finished rather quickly, even though we started late." Neville said.

"It does seem that way. All the better, I suppose. Gives us more time to rest."

"What do you think your odds are of winning this thing?"

"Be serious, it's me we're talking about here. Any outcome _other_ than me winning is highly _improbable._" Harry said haughtily, puffing up his chest.

Neville snorted. "Aren't we cocky today?"

"He's always cocky, Neville. What are you talking about?"

The two boys turned their heads to look for the newcomer. "Why, hello to you too, Hannah." Harry drawled. "How did your match turn out?"

Her face fell. "I got beaten by a fourth year Slytherin. Won two straight rounds against me in under five minutes."

"That's nothing. Potter here took me out of the match twice in under three minutes." Neville said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "At least someone more experienced beat you. Besides, we're third years, underdogs of the competition remember? No one expects us to _seriously_win." He shot a not so obvious glance at his cocky friend.

"Harry managed to beat you?" She squeaked. "How?"

"I stunned him the first time. The second time I made him yield instead." Harry answered offhandedly, looking around. "Do you think they have some food around here? I'm starting to get hungry."

"Don't underestimate him. He's as cunning as a snake this one." Neville piped.

"Don't encourage him Neville. He has this strange belief that somehow the name of our house sounds like a marshmallow. And that it's better to be a snake than a fluffy muggle treat."

"What a strange lad..." Neville commented, rubbing his chin.

"Strange is an understatement." Hannah replied, watching their raven haired friend, who had quite suddenly been struck with a case of selective hearing, look for food.

* * *

**Four excruciatingly long and painful hours filled with excessive violence later...**

"Welcome to your seventh duel today." The referee said. "Harry Potter and Archie Montague, anything to declare?"

"I have a second wand." Harry offered.

"Nothing to declare, sir." The seventh year Ravenclaw, Archie, barked.

"Please go to your respective ends. Bow to your opponents." The referee instructed. "Ready? 3...2...1...Begin!"

Spinning to his right, Harry managed to evade the customary first shot his enemies loved to throw at him. He eyed his opponent cautiously, well-aware that his own magical core was depleted. He would be lucky to get four spells off in this round. He just hoped his opponent wouldn't recognize it.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck today."You're core is depleted Potter." Montague stated confidently. "Your movements show your fatigue. You were _a lot_faster two rounds ago."

"It only takes me one shot to end this match." Harry retorted. "Besides, you show signs of weariness yourself."

Archie snorted disdainfully. "I have fifty spells in me left. I think that's more than enough to take you down." He sent a silent blasting hex at Harry. "Make that forty nine spells."

"I can keep dodging all day long if I have to." Harry replied.

"You have been doing this all day. I've been watching your other matches. That last round against the Slytherin nearly got you. Your slowing down, getting sloppy. Face it, you can't win this."

Harry didn't reply, leveling both of his wands. "You think you can beat me? I am a Montague. My family has been training for duels for hundreds of years." He snarled. "You cannot hope to prevail." Archie lashed out with his wand, creating a flaming whip with it.

"Funny thing about that. The Potters just happen to be a family of Duelists as well." Harry winced as the flame lash nearly singed his face. "You see, instead of focusing on combat magic, my mum taught me something else entirely. Tell me, Montague, have you ever heard of Mage Sight?"

"Of course I have. Mage Sight is the ability to accurately read the magical core."

"I'm so glad you know. Because I'm here to inform you that I just so happen to be blessed with that. Interesting thing really, allows me to micromanage my magic to an insane degree." Harry's eyes flickered. "And from what _I_can see, your estimate is a bit off. You have less than thirty spells left before you collapse."

"Thirty or three hundred, it doesn't matter. I still have more magic than you!" Archie growled, incensed.

Harry said, ducking to avoid the flame lash again. "That's true, but you're also using far more magic than I am. Mr. referee, please ask for Madame Pomfrey. He may need her services soon."

Archie whipped his wand around, willing the fiery lash to do the same. "This is over!" The lash came within inches of Harry's face before it dissipated. "What! What's happening? What did you do?"

"I lied." Harry replied dryly. "You actually had ten spells left in you. The lash burned up that last bit quite quickly, I imagine. Oh well," He sighed. "**Stupefy." **

"Archie Montague is no longer able to continue with the next round due to magical exhaustion!" The referee exclaimed. "This duel automatically goes to Harry Potter. Congratulations on your seven wins, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. "Much obliged, sir." He jumped off the platform, and waited for Dumbledore to announce the results.

* * *

"Students, I would like to congratulate you all on surviving the seven duels demanded of you. With that said, the top eight finalists are as follows: Alexander Zabini of Slytherin with seven points," Some polite clapping was heard. "Harry Potter of Hufflepuff with seven points," The stadium was filled with shocked gasps and loud cheering from the Hufflepuffs and third years. As the youngest contestant in the finals, he was the favored underdog. "Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff with six and a half points, Marcus Flint of Slytherin with six and a half points, Katie Bell of Gryffindor with six points, Archie Montague of Ravenclaw with six points Darren Peregrine of Slytherin with six points, and lastly, Oliver Wood of Gryffindor with six points. Congratulations, finalists. The second part of the tournament will be held in the Great Hall, two weeks from now." Dumbledore said.

**AN: After studying some statistical data, I have discovered that while the chapter's length may increase the number of reviews one gets, the amount of begging (no matter how pathetic it may be) is actually a greater factor to determine the number of reviews one gets**.** In more relevant news, I know I said this would be a 25k to 35k story, but I'm honestly having too much fun writing it to stop...**


	10. Arrest

**Chapter 7: Arrest**

Neville was casually walking over to the Gryffindor Table for breakfast when he passed by a familiar raven haired boy with his head plopped on a table and his arms spread eagle. He paused at the foot of the Hufflepuff Table to stare at the odd sight when he heard the thing moan in pain. "What the bloody hell happened to him?"

Hannah, without turning to look at Neville, answered. "Quidditch Practice."

"Quidditch Practice?" Neville repeated questioningly. "Quidditch Practice managed to reduce Harry into…into _this?_" He said, unable to find an accurate word in his vocabulary to describe what he was seeing.

"It was not Quidditch Practice." Harry said, his voice coming out muffled.

Hannah spared him a glance. "So he decides to speak once more." She remarked dryly.

Harry ignored her side comment. "It was _Hell_!" He muttered, raising his head. "Someone, who shall remain unnamed for his safety," Harry shot a glare at Cedric, "decided to have a team practice at bloody _three _o' clock in the morning."

Neville winced. While it was not unheard of for Captains to hold early morning Quidditch practices, that was a bit extreme. "First, he made us do a hundred laps around the field." Harry continued, still trying to see if he would somehow gain the ability to shoot laser beams out of his eyes and lobotomize his Quidditch Captain. "Then, we had a three hour practice. For Chasers, it was focused on shooting, teamwork, and coordinated plays while dodging bludgers."

_Ah that explains why his arms seemed to be bruising. _Neville thought sympathetically. _Poor chap…_

"The worst part was when he made us jog around the Black Lake _thrice_!"

"Thrice? Why would he make you do that?" Neville asked, frowning.

"Some nonsense training regime he read about on Quidditch Weekly." Harry mumbled, still having no such luck on trying to lobotomize the badger with his eyes. "Or as he puts it, 'to build up some muscles in our scrawny forms.' It's a bloody good thing I know about Enhancement Treatment or my legs would have given out halfway through."

"Well, I don't see your teammates complaining about practice." Neville said, thinking his friend was overreacting.

"That's because none of them are _here_." Harry hissed. "They all collapsed the moment we hit the common room. I'm lucky I even managed to get myself here. We ran 6.8 kilometers, flew nearly two thousand kilometers worth of laps and practice, and had to throw around two pounds balls hundreds of times using various kinds of passes while getting pummeled by those monstrosities called bludgers."

"That's…that's brutal mate." Neville patted his friend's back sympathetically, but stopped once he saw him wincing in pain from the gesture.

Harry laid his head back on the table. "I'm going to murder bloody Cedric Diggory once I've recovered." He mumbled. "Zacharias!" Harry barked. The blonde snapped to attention at his leader's voice. "Remind me to murder Diggory once I've recovered." He instructed. The blonde nodded hesitantly, writing the note down on a random piece of parchment, though unsure if Harry was serious.

Neville turned to face Hannah and quirked his left eyebrow. His expression asking "what's that all about" without using words.

Sighing exasperatedly, Hannah answered his silent query vocally. "Ever since he got elected into the Synod of Hufflepuff, the other 'Puffs have been taking random orders from him."

"The Synod of Hufflepuff?"

"It's sort of like the Slytherin Council, but a lot less violent and political. To become a member, you have to get elected by your peers, and then you act as representative for your year level. The Synod makes sure everyone in our House is taken care of, and on occasion, decides on courses of action." She explained.

"Won't you get in trouble for revealing a House secret to me?" Neville asked, slightly elated that she had taken him into her confidence nonetheless.

Hannah shrugged. "Not really. It's not something we actively hide, just not something we shout out to the world though. And ever since he," she jerked her thumb at the fatigued boy beside her, "made me his vice, I get a bit more leeway."

Harry moaned yet again. "It's surprising really. You'd think that he would be tough enough to handle some pain, being a dueling finalist, Quidditch Chaser and a Synod member." She whispered to Neville.

Neville turned his attention back to Harry. "Look at the bright side to this Harry. All this conditioning ought to help you in the next stage of Dueling. This reminds me by the way, how did you beat Montague?"

"It was simple. I goaded him, made him lose focus. That's how I always win." Harry explained.

Both his companions stared at him incredulously. "That's your secret to victory? Goading people?" Hannah asked.

"It's more than just goading, of course. It takes months of practice to be able to mock people that you're able to do it without thinking too much. That way, I'm able to keep most of my attention on the fight while effectively halving my opponent's. It makes them sloppy, and best of all, stupid." Harry explained.

"You're kidding. You have to be. You're pulling one over us aren't you?" Hannah asked accusatorily.

"I'm serious. Montague couldn't concentrate on using his fire whip and he burned his magic at thrice the normal rate because of his irritation. Pucey couldn't aim well because he was angry I insulted his heritage. One of the Weasley Twins got distracted when I told them I was related to a Marauder and I stunned him. That Ravenclaw fifth year got so caught up in an intellectual debate with me he didn't see the table I summoned from behind him. Daphne Greengrass tried to 'charm' me. She was actually the toughest of them lot. Perfect control over her emotions that one. Good thing I had two wands so I managed to overpower her when she stumbled. That other Hufflepuff I fought was a little dazed when she saw me. I think she fancied me a little. And of course, Neville over here was busy chatting up with me to completely concentrate."

"You expect us to believe what you just said?" Hannah asked. She turned to Neville. "Can you believe this twit has the nerve to lie to us?"

Neville looked thoughtful. "I wouldn't be so quick to call it completely absurd. It does make some sense, Hannah." He said placatingly. "After all, I fought him. And what he says does fit how he acted in the duel."

Just then, Sprout walked up to the trio. "Mr. Potter? Are you alright?"

Harry moaned for the umpteenth time. "Go away. I'm in pain."

She frowned at his words, a little bemused. "He's being a tad overdramatic, Professor Sprout. He'll be fine after a day or two of rest." Hannah answered on her friend's behalf.

"I see." Sprout said. "Well then, Mr. Potter. The Headmaster requests your presence immediately."

"Did he say what about?" Harry asked.

"Nothing specific, Mr. Potter, he just said that you should come immediately."

Harry sighed, standing up and ignoring his aching muscles. He walked after his Head of House, each step a test of his endurance against pain. After what seemed like an eternity, they managed to reach the entrance to the Headmaster's Office.

"The Password is Mars Bars." Sprout said calmly, watching the Gargoyle leap aside. "You will have to go in by yourself Mr. Potter. I have other matters to attend to. Good Day."

"Good day to you Professor." Harry called out, walking up the stairway leading to the Headmaster's Office.

"Come in Mr. Potter." He heard Dumbledore's voice.

Tentatively, Harry opened the door and stepped in. Inside was the Headmaster, accommodating two men wearing cowls. "You called for me, Headmaster?" Harry asked.

"I did, Mr. Potter. These gentlemen would like to speak with you." The aged wizard said, stroking his ridiculously long beard.

"Mr. Potter, I am Unspeakable Jackson, and this is my partner, Unspeakable Sanders. Amelia Bones requested us to look into the matter of an Obliviation reversal you requested. We'll need some more information before we proceed."

"Of course, Unspeakable Jackson. I would be happy to help you in anyway that I can." Harry answered coolly.

"First of, do you have any suspects to the case?"

"I have some suspicions, but I cannot be completely certain. First, I would like to present some of my initial observations. When I first met Ginny Weasley, on the Hogwart's Express that is, I noticed some signs of memory gaps and blankness whenever we approached the subject of Professor Lockhart's exploits last year. She also showed extreme discomfort. According to Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom was also suffering some odd symptoms, allegedly from getting his by a stray curse. I did some research and found nothing on it. Odd, wouldn't you agree, that the curse was never identified by the press. Unexplained forgetfulness served to increase my suspicions."

"What's the point to all this, Mr. Potter?" Albus asked.

"I'm getting there, Headmaster. Now, with what we know, it is safe to suppose that he was struck by the Obliviation Charm some time during his time in the Chamber, given the claims. The only person present at the time who could possibly cast such a spell is Lockhart. Considering his history in the Ministry as part of the Memory Reversal Squad, he is more than qualified to pull off such a stunt."

"Couldn't the apparition of Tom Riddle have also caused it?" Unspeakable Jackson asked. "Headmaster, you were one of those on the scene earliest. What is your opinion?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Tom Riddle's memory would have had no motive to do such. He would have preferred far more damaging spells than a simple memory charm. I said as much in my report to the DMLE."

Jackson seemed to whisper to his partner to consult on some matter. "Chief Warlock, we would like to request permission to apprehend Gilderoy Lockhart for further questioning."

Dumbledore didn't answer, walking towards his fireplace in anger. With practiced ease, he threw in some Floo Powder into the fire, and watched as it turned green. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Head Office!" His voice filled with malice.

"Dumbledore's pissed." Unspeakable Sanders muttered. His partner and Harry nodded in agreement, watching with some fascination as one of the most powerful political entities in the UK brought his full force to bear.

"Dumbledore? What is it?" They heard Amelia Bones's voice.

"As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump representing Europe in the International Confederation of Wizards, I am ordering you to send two squads of Hit Wizards to apprehend the wizard known as Gilderoy Lockhart for Fraud, Use of Memory Charms on a Minor without consent, assault on a minor, acting as an accomplice to murder, and violation of the Pureblood Protection Act. The use of lethal force against him has been authorized should he resist. Furthermore, I am ordering the need of a team of Healers from St. Mungo's specializing in Brain Damage and a squad of Obliviators with a specialty in Memory Charm Reversal. An additional three Obliviator experts are ordered to help to be requested from the Department of Mysteries, without delay." He said, the intensity of his words clearly seen in his eyes. The fire of hatred was there.

"If I may be so bold sir, I'd suggest to place a trusted Auror Squad to guard the two. There may be some people who would want to strike at the boy-who-lived in his vulnerable state. Perhaps to gain a political advantage?" Harry suggested.

"Wise words, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, acknowledging him. "We will be needing that as well."

"You can't be serious Albus?" Amelia's shocked voice was heard. "That's a serious mobilization of Ministry resources to apprehend one man? Surely we don't need that many people involved?"

"That _man," _Dumbledore hissed venomously, "has almost ruined the mind of two brilliant minors. If you do not have those people here within ten minutes I will be charging you with accomplice to murder, aiding and abetting a wanted man, and subversion of authority! Nine minutes and forty nine seconds left, Amelia." He closed down the connection before she could answer. Dumbledore was starting to show just exactly why he was someone you did not want to cross.

"Pleased as I am by how seriously you are taking all this, I sincerely doubt it would take ten Hit Wizards to take down Lockhart, sir." Harry commented.

"Do not underestimate him. A duel has rules, Mr. Potter. Circumstances are different when one feels no such moral restraints. He may use humans shields, or worse. Jackson, Sanders, move to the Hospital Wing. I will be sending Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Weasley soon."

"Yes, Chief Warlock." Both Unspeakables answered in chorus, the admiration and fear clear in their voices and faces. Harry swore he saw one of them give a slight bow even!

"Lockhart's not going to stand a chance." Harry remarked once the two had left.

"That is the point exactly." Dumbledore replied, then paused. "You are an enigma, Harry Potter." He stated bluntly.

"What ever do you mean, Headmaster?" Harry asked.

"You were able to uncover something that I could not. A sign of remarkable intelligence at the very least. I am ashamed to say that for all my power and knowledge, I was not able to uncover this."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Headmaster. You are, after all, a very busy person." Harry answered. "Besides, it should have been nearly undetectable via magic, unless you were looking for it specifically, like I was doing. Lockhart was clever to cover up most magical traces. Too bad he forgot about behavioral symptoms."

"And how, pray tell, did you know what to look for?"

"Like I said, I took all the behavioral oddities, and with a bit of logic, I pieced together the most conceivable story before acting." Harry explained. He felt a slight pressure in his head as the Headmaster did a light mental probe, and decided to let him see the relevant memories.

After a minute had passed, Dumbledore relaxed somewhat, leaning back into his chair. "Very well, Mr. Potter. You may leave. I believe Professor Sprout asked me to tell you to report to your common room after our business here was settled."

"Much obliged, Headmaster." Harry said. "But they can wait. I think watching dearest Gilderoy get arrested is infinitely more fun then meeting up with my beloved Head of House. That is, if you don't mind, Headmaster."

"How would you protect yourself if you are somehow caught in the crossfire?"

Harry grinned cockily, and raised his glove in answer.

"Ah yes, the infamous Potter Gloves I hear my Staff ranting about. Given the circumstances, I am feeling particularly vindictive. I will allow you to come with us, Mr. Potter."

Just then, the fireplace roared into life as a group of red robed wizards stepped out of the flames and stood at attention. One of them stepped forward. "Chief Warlock, Captain Niles of Hit Squad Zeta, reporting!"

Yet another wizard stepped up as well. "Chief Warlock, Captain O'Neil of Hit Squad Epsilon, awaiting your orders!"

"Men, the primary objective is to secure and detain Gilderoy Lockhart. Lethal force is authorized should he resist arrest. Secondary objectives include the safety of other parties, to coerce him into undoing his charm or revealing any information relevant to the successful reversal of his memory charms. Questions?"

"Plan of assault, sir?"

"I will summon him to my office to discuss some matters. As he stands outside my office, you will ambush him from both sides of the corridor. Keep yourself hidden with disillusionment charms. Move out."

"Yes sir!" The men streamed out in an orderly fashion.

As Harry turned to follow, Dumbledore slammed the door shut with his magic. "You will stay here and watch his arrest via surveillance mirror, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said coolly. "I will not have you risk yourself unnecessarily, even if I did agree to your request."

Harry pouted and positioned himself to get the best view possible of the mirror. Dumbledore hastily scribbled a note and sent Fawkes with it. Suffice to say, it took the phoenix mere seconds to return.

Watching the surveillance mirror with keen interest, Harry waited expectantly for the blonde to appear. His patience was rewarded when he saw the man appear after a few minutes had passed, humming to himself. As Lockhart stopped in front of the gargoyle, ten stunning spells struck him concurrently, assuring that he was completely knocked out. In a few effective motions, the Hit Wizards had subdued the man, taken his wand, stripped him of anything that could be dangerous, and bound him to a chair for the Headmaster to interrogate, albeit still unconscious.

"Do any of you have some Veritaserum handy?" Dumbledore asked.

"I have some with me, Chief Warlock." The Captain from Epsilon took out a flask filled with the potion.

"**Enervate!" **The soon to be convicted criminal woke up gasping for air and struggling against the invisible chains that kept him in place. His shook his head wildly, the fear could be seen.

"Why am I here? Albus? What's going on?" He asked frantically, seeing the Hit Wizards with their wands pointed at him.

"We are here to clear up a little matter, Gilderoy. Captain, if you would." The red robed man moved forward and attempted to administer the potion. When Gilderoy, as expected, resisted, he delivered a punch to his diaphragm, making the captive open his mouth instinctively to breath in more air. Three drops of the wonderful concoction found itself on his tongue and he was spilling his beans to anyone who would ask.

"What is your name?"

"Gilderoy Theodore Lockhart."

"Did you cast a memory charm on Neville Longbottom and Ginevra Weasley?"

"Yes."

"For what purpose?"

"To alter their memories of the event."

"What really happened in the chamber of secrets?"

"Neville Longbottom managed to slay the Basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor while I had been busy fighting against Riddle's manifestation. Once the diary was destroyed, I stunned them both in order to alter their memories so I could take full credit of the event."

"Have you ever cast a memory charm in order to steal the exploits of others?" Harry managed to ask before Dumbledore could continue his interrogation. Dumbledore glared at him.

"Yes." Harry smirked triumphantly at Dumbledore in return.

"What other accomplishments did you take credit for?" Albus asked, now genuinely curious.

"All of them, except for my victories in Witch Weekly, and the slaying of the Cannibal Yeti."

"What charm did you use on Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley?"

"A modified Obliviation Charm of my design. It's supposed to leave no obvious magical traces." He said this with a hint of pride.

"Administer the antidote, Captain. And take this man to a holding cell. Mr. Potter, I suggest you go to your Head of House now." Dumbledore instructed dictatorially.

Everyone obeyed immediately. There was no room for argument in the tone the Chief Warlock was taking.

* * *

"Nice of you to join us, Harry." Cedric said cheerily.

Harry glared at him. Most of his previous delight at seeing one of his enemies getting arrested gone once he was reminded of who had caused him so much physical pain recently. "I still hate you for practice."

Cedric's grin, if possible, grew even wider. "Settle down." Sprout butted in. "Let's get this over with. Synod Presidents, any updates?"

"Seventh years are all fine and working hard for their Newts."

"Fifth years are the same."

"Sixth years, I think Summers is falling behind in Charms."

"Fourth years, some sort of split is occurring. Arguments about magical blood erupted the other day in class.

"Third years, nothing to report." Harry said calmly. "Abbott has been getting a bit friendly with Longbottom though. Methinks a couple they might be in the future." And there were no second or first year representatives because no distinct leader showed up during those early years.

"Tell Summers that I'd be happy to arrange a tutor for her." Michael Owens, the seventh year representative, said.

"As for the fourth years, try to keep them together, Stevens." Sprout said.

"I'm doing my best, but they're getting more and more rebellious."

"Very well, I will be having words with them." Sprout said. "Are there any other issues to acknowledge?"

"Gilderoy got arrested about six minutes ago." Harry said casually, twirling his wand.

Everyone turned to look at him in a surprising show of cohesion. "What?" They all exclaimed in unison.

"Yup, I had front row seats and all. Something about using memory charms on minors. And Amy, you owe me eight galleons because I just won our bet." He said to the fifth year female representative. She glared at him, but otherwise handed over the money. "Told you he would get arrested this week."

"You totally set this up!" She hissed.

Harry tilted his head at her. "I did." He admitted unabashedly.

She screamed in frustration and walked out. Harry grinned cheekily at her retreating form. "I always wanted to see if I could make her walk out."

"Very well, Council adjourned." Sprout said, recovering from the revelation of the shocking news.

**AN: I am suffering from Writer's Overflow. Which is what I suppose is the opposite of Writer's Block. Instead of having nothing to write, I find myself having too much to write. If you've been paying attention to my profile, this past few days I've been hit with several new story ideas, two of which are already in the final planning stages. The first would be a history on the elder wand, and the second is about a Mastermind! Harry.**


	11. Interlude: Dueling Tournament, Stage 2

**Interlude: Dueling Tournament, Stage 2**

In the short time since the term had started, Hogwarts had been shaken into a frenzy over the sarcastic, incorrigible, insufferable, smartass known as Harry Potter who had casually plopped himself supinely onto a bed in the Infirmary.

"Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey began. Before she could continue with what she was going to say, she was interrupted abruptly.

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, nodding to her in greeting, "you are looking quite lovely, as always."

She bristled, pursing her lips irately. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to see Neville and Ginny. Someone has to make sure the Healers didn't screw up the reversal."

"Don't you have classes?"

"This is for the greater good! Surely, you understand?" Harry sighed heavily, crossing his feet. "And actually, classes ended ten minutes ago." He tilted his head and grinned cockily at the matron.

"I see. So if you are here to check up on your friends, why are you in bed?" She asked, deadpanned.

"I'm injured." Harry explained. "You see, Hogwarts's chairs never agreed with my buttocks."

"That is not a valid injury. Get off my bed, Mr. Potter." She growled.

"Actually, a sore buttock could be a symptom of over a dozen magical ailments, most of which are fatal." Harry corrected. "So it is rather valid."

Pomfrey glowered at him. "Get off my bed, or I shall hex you!"

The threat, if anything, only managed to spur Harry onwards. "That would be in direct contradiction to your Oath, harming me, that is. And keep it down would you, there are people trying to rest here." Harry gestured to Neville and Ginny who lay unconscious on the beds to his right.

The Healer wisely chose to make a tactical withdrawal. Or maybe she just stormed out the room in frustration. Either way, as she left, she brushed past Hannah, who coincidentally entered as she left. She raised a brow at Harry, eyeing his position on the bed with curiosity."Do I want to know what that was about?"

"I don't know. Do you?" Harry asked, redirecting the question.

"I probably don't." She said, shaking her head. "I mean _you,_of all people, are involved after all."

Before Harry could retort, someone had bumped into Hannah, causing her to stumble forward. She spun on her heels and glared at the cause of her ungraceful incidence.

"Ah, Edward, did you bring what I asked?" Harry asked, recognizing his brother's smaller stature. Edward didn't answer vocally, but nodded with ardor. He tossed a package at Harry, who caught it with his free hand.

Hannah, her anger overcome by her curiosity, walked forward to get a closer look, before stopping suddenly in midstride. "What is that?"

"It's a book." Harry replied, tapping on the package with his wand to enlarge it. He turned the book in his hands curiously, brushing some dust off the front cove, before placing it on his bedside table. "I think I shall have some dinner first. Tinky!" He shouted.

A house elf appeared and gave a small bow to Harry. "Yes, Master Harry?"

"I think I'd like some pizza tonight, a Margherita, I think. Half a dozen should suffice." He said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His eyes swept around the room critically.

"Aren't we hungry?" Hannah stated wryly. Harry remained silent at her rhetoric.

"Will Sir be needing anything else from Tinky?" Tinky asked.

"No, that will be all. Thank you, Tinky." The house elf performed a small bow before vanishing with a loud "pop".

Harry stopped twirling his wand abruptly, and sent a sharp look at Hannah...at least it seemed that way. "You know, Aurors, you can drop the Disillusionment Charms. I was the one who suggested to Headmaster Dumbledore for your presence here, after all."

Hannah jumped back, startled when a blue robed stranger suddenly materialize din front of her. Edward looked pretty rattled as well with the sudden appearance of not one, but _eight _Aurors around the room. "The gesture of dinner was kind of you, Mr. Potter." Hannah heard the one in front of her say.

"I can't very well have the people guarding my friends starve, can I? You'd do a pretty sucky job at protecting them if you were doubling over from hunger pains halfway into a fight." Harry retorted.

The aurors chuckled. "I am curious though, how did you notice our presence."

"First of all, people don't normally just stop in midstride. That immediately told me something was compelling her subconsciously. A little scan with my Mage Sight," Harry tapped his temple with his finger, "and your auras were in plain sight for me." He flashed a lazy grin at them then resumed his annoying habit of twirling his wand.

Before the auror could reply, Tinky had reappeared, balancing several platters of Italian food gracefully with one hand. Harry stood up and banished the bed before conjuring a table with an attached wooden bunch in its place, and watched with satisfaction as Tinky placed several platters on the middle of the table.

"Y-you just did conjuration!" Edward stuttered.

Harry shot an irritated look at him. "Thank you very much for stating the obvious." He replied dryly, sitting down and helping himself to a slice of pizza.

"That's at least Newt level." Hannah remarked, seemingly unaffected by his advanced display of magic. "Although, why didn't you just transfigure it?"

"It's unhygienic. Being a Hospital bed and all it's bound to have all sorts of germs." Harry felt his spine shudder without his conscious consent. "Now, all of you need to sit down, shut up, and eat. Auror," Harry stole a glance at the name tag which was clipped onto the upper left breast pocket of the Auror's robes, "Bishop was just about to tell us about Neville's condition."

"I was?" Bishop asked, amused and bemused at the same time.

"You will, if you want to eat dinner." Harry threatened, growling.

"So I will." The auror replied, holding his hands up in a non-threatening manner. When he noticed the accusatory glares his teammates were sending him for agreeing to reveal sensitive information, he shrugged nonchalantly. "The Chief Warlock already gave him clearance."

"I thought he'd see it my way." Harry said, smirking. "And Edward, stop gaping. You'll look less of an idiot that way." His brother glared at him in response, but obeyed nonetheless. "Now the report?"

"The Healers say that they should wake up by today. They should suffer no lasting damage, and the symptoms you recognized earlier should be gone. It is highly recommended though that they go through therapy in the event of possible psychological trauma."

"And what of Lockhart?"

"His trial will be held the day after your Dueling Tournament."

"So that would be the day after tomorrow, in simpler terms?"

"Yes, Dumbledore wants you at the trial to help him convict Lockhart."

"Good, I'd be happy to be the final nail in that idiot's coffin." Harry answered, a look of content gracing his face.

"Dumbledore said you'd say something like that." Bishop said, eyeing a slice of pizza.

* * *

The next day found Harry seated in the Great Hall, gaining attention by his oddly muggle apparel. Instead of the traditional battle robes, or even just robes for that matter, he chose to wore a tight fitting black and yellow single, with a menacing badger with its fangs bared in front, and the word "POTTER" embroidered at the back. He was also wearing matching shorts, and black rubber shoes completed the look.

"So...are you nervous?" Hannah asked.

"Not really." Harry replied calmly, observing his fellow finalists prepare.

"By the way, why are you wearing what seems to be Basketball attire?" Hannah asked curiously. "You're garnering an awful lot of attention."

"It allows me more flexibility and mobility." Harry answered. "Plus, I'm planning to market and trademark this."

Hannah stared at him incredulously. "You want to trademark the Hufflepuff Insignia?"

"Actually, I was planning on trademarking this style of attire. It would dominate on the Quidditch field."

"Won't players freeze to death on the Pitch wearing that? Especially at the altitudes they play?"

Harry shook his head at her condescendingly. "Oh ye of little faith. This thing is charmed to maintain optimum temperature, charmed against wear and tear, provides maximum mobility by being manipulating air resistance, plus, its got a cushioning charm to provide basic protection against bludgeoning force, similar to what standard Quidditch robes use today." Harry lectured.

"Did you practice that sale's pitch of yours?"

Harry gleamed at her. "Yes, I did." He said proudly.

"And there's nothing I can do to persuade you against doing this?"

"Probably not."

"Enjoy then."

Before they could continue their conversation, Dumbledore spoke up. "Before we begin, I'd like to introduce our guest judge for today. Mr. Jordan Meyers, Manager of our very own National Quidditch Team, the English Dragons!" There was a deafening roar of approval from the Quidditch fans in response. "And now, for the first round of our quarterfinals, Harry Potter of Hufflepuff against Marcus Flint!"

Harry stood from his place, but before he could take a step, he felt someone's hand latch on to his arm. He turned his head and was surprised to see Hannah. Her normally harsh expression softened. "Good luck, Harry."

He nodded his head in acknowledgement and continued to walk towards the stage. As he did, the air was filled with shouts of "Potter! Potter! Potter!" not only from his House, but from his fellow year mates as well.

As he stepped onto the stage, Flint gawked at him. "What the bloody hell are you wearing?"

Harry grinned and with his Sonorus amplified voice, he began narrating his sales pitch again, gaining the interest of everyone. By the end of it, Flint had a glazed look on his face and was so busy contemplating the idea's credibility that he barely heard the referee's shout of "Begin!" and the familiar red beam of light that sent him flying moment's later.

"That was anti-climatic." Harry muttered, vocalizing what everyone was thinking while the referee revived Flint.

The Slytherin shook his head and glared at Harry for his "cheap shot".

"Ready? Begin!" He heard the referee shout.

With a fervor that only those possessed with vengeance could understand, Flint began casting spells at Harry as soon as the match started. Harry barely managed to dodge the first few, before throwing up a shield to deflect the spells. With his second wand, Harry conjured a wooden table above Flint, and watched with grim satisfaction as it slammed into the boy, knocking Flint unconscious.

"Harry Potter moves up to the semifinals!" The referee announced. The Hufflepuffs went wild at the announcement. The Slytherins looked rather sullen, although they consoled themselves with the fact that they still had two members of their House in the game.

Harry walked back to his seat amid the jubilant badgers, occasionally getting a friendly pat in the back from his "fans".

With some interest, Harry directed his attention towards the next match. Alexander Zabini of Slytherin, the only undefeated finalist so far aside from Harry, was up against Archie Montague of Ravenclaw. Their fight was fierce and brutal, with not so nice curses flying almost immediately. After nearly twenty minutes of intense spell casting, the Montague managed to come out on top. The second round soon began and ended quickly after Zabini chose to try and steamroll his opponent early on. It worked, and within within a minute, Montague's shield collapsed. The third round proved to be the decisive one, as both tried to overwhelm the other quickly. In the end, Zabini proved to be the better duelist. However, Zabini looked completely stumped by the end of the match, and from what Harry could see, his core was drained by sixty-eight percent.

The next match was far less riveting, with Katie Bell easily losing against Darren Peregrine from Slytherin. That exacted cheers from the House of the Snake as they realized that they now had two of their own in the semifinals, meaning they had a fifty-fifty chance in winning.

The match between Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory proved to be of some interest though, as for the first time, Harry saw them fight. Wood's barrage fire approach against Diggory's precision strike approach. By the time the dust had settled, Wood had managed to secure two wins allowing him to advance to the semifinals, proving that quantity could beat quality. This defeat, if anything, bought Harry far more support than ever, being the last hope Hufflepuff had of taking the gold.

The first match of the semifinals was between Zabini and Wood. With both of their styles based on overwhelming their opponent instead of surgical strikes, the one who would win would be the one who could get out the most spells in the shortest amount of time. Wood, while having more magic left, lost to Zabini, who was highly proficient in chain casting - the art of making the ending wand movements of one spell into the beginning of another. Combining it with silent spell casting, it allowed for him to unleash dozens of spell in a span of seconds. Being well versed in magical theory, Harry knew that Zabini had chosen to chain cast instead of foregoing wand movements - which was well within his capability - because it would require less magical energy to attain the same spell power. For good reason to, seeing as Zabini had less than fifteen percent of his magical energy by the time the match was over. This, of course, managed to rally Gryffindor House under Harry as well.

It also meant that Harry now had to go up against Peregrine. The moment the duel began, Harry had rushed up to the boy, closing half the distance before a single spell was in the air, thanks to his newly acquired mastery of self-implemented enhancement. With his clothes allowing for flexibility, Harry was easily able to dodge any spells that came his way with a series of acrobatic stunts. His actions seemed to stun Peregrine - and everyone else in the hall, for that matter - as maneuvers like somersaults, flips and jumps were a rare occurrence in duels, especially youth duels. It usually degenerated to flinging spells back and forth until one or the other was taken down. Such a...physical approach was highly irregular.

Harry took advantage of this , and once he was within striking distance, pummeled Peregrine mercilessly with his magically enhanced fists. And yes, while the Slytherin as taller, older and nominally stronger, he lacked the speed to deal with the situation. By the time Harry finished with a roundhouse kick to a rather sensitive area, Peregrine was in no shape to continue, and ceded the next match.

Which left Harry with almost all of his magical energy intact, while Alexander Zabini had barely enough energy to cast another dozen spells after two intense, magically taxing matches that drained over ninety percent of his core. Even without any tricks or fancy acrobatics, Harry could have won.

But who are we kidding? This is Harry. And he wouldn't be the same without doing something to spice things up.

Even years later, Alexander Zabini would always wonder if maybe he should have yielded. It certainly would have been a lot less painful.

With all the cards in his hand, Harry basically had a carte blanche to direct the duel's path. He chose to do something he hadn't done since he left his old dimension...using brute force. With impunity, he sent all manners of hexes and curses at the shield until it was totaled, but not before Zabini's core was drained.

The last match of the day was supposed to be between Peregrine and Wood. Seeing as one of the two was unable to compete, Wood won by default.

With the Dueling Tournament finally over, Dumbledore stood to address them all. That man loved his speeches, after all. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with great pride that I present to you the Youth Champion of the 1993 Edinburgh Dueling Tournament, Harry Potter!" Some students cheered avidly, while others clapped politely. But one thing was clear, Harry Potter had gained their respect.

After collecting his gold, and receiving a medal, Harry was joined by Alexander Zabini, who had taken a Pepper Up Potion just so he could make an appearance, and Oliver Wood, who received a silver and bronze medal respectively. "Gentlemen," Dumbledore spoke to them, "you have the honor to represent your district in the National Dueling Tournament that will begin on February. The prize of winning there will amount to two thousand galleons at least. From there, you could represent your nation at the European Youth Tournament. If any of you wish to enter, it would be mandatory to seek training under one of your professors, we have a tradition to uphold after all. As the finest institute of magical England, we have never once sent a delegation to the Youth Nationals that hasn't placed in the top three."

Zabini was the first to answer. "I would request to apprentice under Professor Snape."

"And I would want request to apprentice under Professor Flitwick, Headmaster." Wood said.

"And you, Mr. Potter?" Albus asked, the twinkle in his eye going into overdrive.

"I think I could learn a lot from you, Headmaster." Harry said, smiling at his soon to be mentor.

Dumbledore returned his smile. "That is acceptable to me, although we'd need to work out our schedules." He turned to face the crowd again, reactivating his Sonorus charm. "Ladies and Gentlemen, our representatives for the Nationals!"


	12. Trial

**AN: I apologize for the severe delay, but I had a difficult time adjusting to college life. It's only recently that I had any free time to sit down and actually right.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP.**

**In dedication to _Suit, _the best law series I've ever seen and the inspiration for the completion of this chapter.**

**Chapter 8: Trial**

Harry Potter could be found on this morning in the middle of October seated patiently in the Headmaster's Office.

He was wearing a navy blue robe below his black, partially buttoned cardigan, a grey scarf wrapped around his neck. His runic leather gloves and black, but shiny, combat boots completed his look. All-in-all, he looked rather regal - at least when compared to his three other companions. Neville wore a plain black robe and sported a tie, while Ginny simply wore her school robes.

Of course, their rather formal attire was in stark contrast with Dumbledore and his ridiculously, bright, hipster robes and mismatched clothes.

"Headmaster, you are looking fashionable, as ever." Harry smiled, more at amusement of the Headmaster's terrible fashion sense than anything.

"And you are looking quite sharp yourself today, Mr. Potter." Albus replied cheerily. Harry wasn't sure whether the man hadn't detected his sarcasm or was pulling one over him. "Now, we best be on our way to the Ministry. Mr. Lockhart isn't going to go down without a fight. I don't suppose I need to instruct you how to use the Floo Network?" He asked, and seeing the three make a negative gesture, continued. "After you then, Mr. Potter." He held out a small dish filled with the magical white power towards Harry.

Harry grabbed a fistful of the powder and stepped into the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic, Atrium!" He simultaneously threw the powder into the fire, turning it into an eerie green before it swallowed up Harry completely. In the next moment, Harry found himself "gracefully" exiting the fireplace. That is to say it seemed to spit him out, sending him sprawling onto the floor, and eliciting odd looks from passersby.

His companions appeared behind him soon after. While Neville and Ginny stared wide eyed at the various features of the Atrium, Dumbledore wondered curiously why his newly acquired protégé was dusting off his robes and muttering darkly about fireplaces. He banished such thoughts from his head in good order, and led his charges past the "Fountain of Magical Brethren" with its golden statues and rainbow colored water. The four of them reached a golden gate guarded by a single wizard whose job seemed to be inspecting wands and issuing badges. Being with a Chief Warlock had its perks, it seemed, as they walked to the front of the line - regardless of the irate looks people shot towards them – and simply cut in.

"Good morning, Chief Warlock." The guard greeted amiably. "I'll need to check your wands, sir."

Harry flicked his wrist, and handed over his main wand to the guard. His other wand was currently locked in his trunk back in Hogwarts. The guard accepted their wands with both hands, and handled them with care. "You'll receive your wands again on the other side. What is your business with Ministry today, Chief Warlock?"

"Barnaby, I am with Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, and Ms. Weasley to attend the Wizengamot's gathering." Albus answered the question without going into specifics.

Barnaby didn't seem to mind the lack of details. In fact, he seemed pleased that a man as important as Albus Dumbledore knew and even spoke to him on a first name basis. "Well, here are your badges." He handed over four gleaming, golden badges and, after watching them pin it onto their robes, let them pass through the gate which separated the Atrium from the lifts.

Dumbledore ushered them into one of the lifts before entering himself and punching the button that would lead them to the Wizengamot's floor. As the doors closed, the sound of one of Celestina Warbeck's song wafted into the lift. Dumbledore stroked his beard pensively, humming with the tune and bobbing his head up and down.

Neville and Ginny stared at their Headmaster, wide-eyed at his normally strange behavior. Harry wondered whether Dumbledore would break out dancing as well.

A soft ringing sound broke Dumbledore out of his groove, signaling to the group that they had arrived at their desired floor. Dumbledore straightened out his robes just as the metal doors parted, allowing him to leave the lift, and his previous behavior, behind. Without another thought, Harry followed suit, matching the aged man stride for stride.

"Neville, Ginny, you might want to start moving before the lift closes on you." Harry called out in a sing-song tone. That was apparently enough to break the stupor that had settled on the pair.

Within a few short minutes, they had reached the mahogany double doors of the Wizengamot chamber. The design on the doors, as with everything inside the Wizengamot chambers, attempted to give off an appearance of grandeur. Numerous intricate carvings decorated the door, so intricate, in fact, that few ever bothered to take the time and actually marvel at them anymore. It was a typical example of the Wizengamot trying too hard – and failing - to impress their importance on others.

With a heavy sigh, Harry adopted a keenly militaristic stance with both arms behind him and strode forward into the chamber. The room, he found, was akin to the Grecian amphitheatres of old, with the seats rising in elevation the farther it was from the center of the room. The entrance that Harry used led him to the lowest level in the room, the area which would also become the focus of everyone's attention once the day's proceedings started.

Neville and Ginny brought up the rear, taking in the scene before them with a kind of awe that came only with youth and inexperience. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see that Dumbledore had moved to one of the two tables nearby. It was, presumably, the plaintiff's side.

The other would be for Lockhart – the defendant. The doors on the other side of the hall creaked open, allowing said person and his defense counsel passage into the chambers. Harry locked eyes with the blonde haired git that was his "professor" and smirked triumphantly. This was going to be the last and hopefully most humiliating day of Lockhart's freedom.

Harry moved to take a seat next to Dumbledore followed by his two fellow witnesses.

Fudge took up a prominent position in the room, overlooking both the defense and the prosecution from his considerably elevated platform. He shrewdly eyed the related parties, no doubt already formulating what plan of action would benefit him the most. A self-serving politician to the bone, Fudge was never one to let pass an opportunity to curry favor with socialites.

The heavy head of the gavel met wood. The ominous sound filled the room. The Trial of Gilderoy Lockhart had begun.

"Members of this august body, we are gathered here on the Seventeenth of October, Nineteen Ninety-Three by request of the Chief Warlock to enact justice. The defendant, known as Gilderoy Lockhart, has been accused by the plaintiff, Albus Dumbledore, of the following charges: the violation of the Hogwarts Contract, two counts.

"The breach of educational standards, sixteen counts.

"The violation of the Pureblood Protection Act, two counts.

"The illegal use of memory charms, three count_s_.

"The use of memory charms on minors _without consent_, two counts.

"Assaulting a minor, three counts."

"And acting as an accomplice to murder, two counts." Fudge took a deep breathe, and stared Lockhart down. "How does the defense plead?"

One of Lockhart's barristers, a sharp looking, smartly dressed man, answered for him. "Not guilty to all charges, except one, your Honor."

Fudge raised a brow at him. "Please specify which." The power in his voice made it clear it was a command phrased as a request.

"To one count of breach in educational standards, your Honor. An incident during the second of September last year where my client released a batch of," the barrister paused to consult with his papers, "_freshly caught _Cornish pixies on a class without proper instruction. Granted that was hardly my client's fault seeing as the spell he was _required _to teach in the curriculum proved to be ineffective against the pixies - a situation that was rectified soon enough without any _lasting_ damage."

It was Lockhart's turn now to shoot a triumphant smirk at Harry. In all honesty, it was a rather brilliant move by his counsel –downplaying the severity of the case by focusing on something so trivial.

The barrister, clearly a man of some intellect, was not finished.

"In fact, I believe that my client had even offered to pay for the damages at the time, but was promptly turned away for his _generosity _by the current Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. All other claims against my client are baseless, without a shred of evidence indicating he did what they_claim _he did. Your Honor, this case is clearly a waste of time of all these venerable witches and wizards and I would like to move for the immediate dismissal of this case."

Several members of the Wizengamot stood to leave. Even more broke out in mutterings under the belief that the trial would now be dismissed. Fudge had other thoughts.

A bang of his gavel quickly brought order back into the room. "Unfortunately, Barrister Spectre, the validity of this case has already been determined and therefore, cannot be dismissed as of yet. Your plea of Guilty to the one count of breach in educational standards has been noted and will be kept in mind when we deliver our verdict. The defense will now begin with their opening statement."

Dumbledore nodded gratefully towards the Minister. "You have heard the charges we have brought up against the defense. Outlandish they may seem to be, that a man of Gilderoy Lockhart's standing would be accused of such, but they are unfortunately true. Despite the claims of the plaintiff, the grounds for our case have been based on facts and evidence painstakingly compiled in order to bring this man to justice for his actions.

"On November 13, 1992, a series of attacks against students began, marking the opening of the chamber of secrets. This culminated in the kidnapping of one Ginevra Weasley by an enchanted dark artifact under the guise of Tom Riddle on December 10, 1992. Gilderoy Lockhart, then a professor, was one of many tasked with the location and elimination of any threat within the chamber of secrets as well as the retrieval of Ginevra Weasley. Eight hours later, Gilderoy Lockhart appeared before me in my Office with an unconscious Ginevra Weasley and Neville Longbottom. He was, however, strangely alone in this endeavor despite a direct standing order to remain with his assigned partner, Bathsheda Babbling, who was also found unconscious in an abandoned classroom with no recollection of the past few hours.

"A runic mental diagnostics test employed by Harry Potter on the Seventh of October revealed Neville Longbottom and Ginevra Weasley to be under the effects of a memory charm. These chain of events could hardly be mere coincidence and it is undeniable that Gilderoy Lockhart's action in the case is, at best, suspicious. By his own words, he has admitted his guilt in one matter. The prosecution will show, with this trial, that he is guilty of the rest as well."

Now it was the Defense's turn for their opening statement. Michael Spectre circled around to make eye contact with all members of the Wizengamot before beginning. Harry noted this with some worry. It was a sign of a seasoned orator.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot," he began, an easy smile plastered on his face, "I admit that we have, indeed, confessed to be guilty of one," he raised his index finger up high, "_one _count of breach in the educational standards. Yes, my client is guilty, but not of their exaggerated claims. The question this body must decide, it seems to me, is not whether my client is guilty, but rather _how_ guilty he is. And you will find that the answer to that is, in fact, not very guilty at all. That is better by far than what many people can honestly claim. I find it ironic, cruelly so, that you would sit here and judge my client, a man of _upstanding repute_, while murderers and Death Eaters still roam free! Let the man who is free from guilt throw the first stone!"

Dumbledore seemed unfazed by his outcry. "The prosecution calls Bathsheda Babbling to the stand."

The professor of Ancient Runes stood and was promptly sworn in by the Auror on guard. "Professor Babbling, could you kindly tell us what you recall regarding the events of December 10, 1992?"

"Well Headmaster, as you know, I had been assigned to find the chamber of secrets along with all the other professors. We were instructed to pair up and I was assigned with Professor Lockhart. We were following a trail of what seemed to be hissing sounds at the time when I was knocked out."

"And what was Gilderoy Lockhart's relative position to you at the time you were knocked out?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I can't rightly say where, exactly, but I'm sure that he was no longer beside me when I was attacked."

Dumbledore smiled paternally at her. "The Prosecution rests, your Honor."

Spectre stood up to begin his cross examination. "You say that he was no longer beside you at the time you were attacked, correct?"

"Yes."

"Can you be absolutely certain that he was, in fact no longer with you considering that your attention as elsewhere?"

"Like I said, I can't rightly say, sir."

"Interesting," Spectre murmured loudly, "and did you hear my client draw his wand or otherwise murmur any sort of incantation at around the same time?"

"I was busy trying to determine the source of the whispering so I can't say I did."

Spectre nodded in satisfaction. "The Defense rests, Your Honor."

Harry frowned as he watched the examinations and subsequent cross-examinations following. Each followed a similar pattern. Dumbledore would call up a witness, Spectre would place doubt on the witness' credibility or otherwise negate the statements made. His questioning was always phrase din such a way that the answer he would receive would place doubt in the minds of the members and make them second guess the whole thing. Harry had to hand it to the man. He knew his profession well. This occurred similarly to both Ginny and Neville – two of the most crucial witnesses to their case.

"Mr. Lockhart, could you relate to the Wizengamot what _really _happened on that night?" Spectre asked.

"It's all been mentioned before." The blonde began. "I was out on patrol with my partner, and like she said, we were following a trail of sound at the time. I stopped for a moment to tie my shoes but when I looked up, my partner, Professor Babbling, was out cold. My attempts at enervating her failed. I assumed it was an attack and hid her body in a nearby classroom to protect her. I then continued on the trail we had been following for some time.

"A while later, I found Neville Longbottom out in the corridors. He was, I presume, trying to save the girl himself. A brave, if foolish, act. He had his own theory of how to track the monster at the time – one far more credible than mine, I will admit – and for that, I let him accompany me. We did, eventually find the chamber and rescue the girl. However, the apparition known as Tom Riddle managed to grab a hold of my wand!" Harry leaned forward in interest.

_Strike one._

"A fight ensued where Neville was unfortunately struck with a strange curse within seconds of the fight. I was unable to protect him from it soon enough and when he awoke, he remembered nothing."

_Strike two._

"I did what I had to and fought with Neville's wand. It was a brutal fight, but in the end, I managed to get the upper hand over the dark emanation." He finished, flashing a winning smile at his "audience."

_Strike three._

"Clearly, my client's version of what really occurred in the chamber of secrets more than explains things." Spectre started. He blocked out the rest of the barrister's words and whispered something quickly into Dumbledore's ear.

"Finally, Defense calls Harry Potter to the stand." Calmly, Harry did as was requested.

"Mr. Potter, would you say that you are a qualified medical expert?"

"No."

"How about a Runes Master?"

"No."

"Well, if you aren't, than what makes your analysis of the Rune chain used to diagnose the minds of Neville Longbottom and Ginevra Weasley credible?"

"It isn't." Harry replied coolly. "What is credible is the diagnosis made by the qualified medical experts and Runes Masters who followed up my initial report. The results of both tests were similar in all relevant instances."

"And according to both your reports, whose wand was it that cast the spell resulting in the damage to Neville Longbottom's person?"

"The wand seemed to belong to Neville Longbottom." Harry raised a hand to stop Spectre from continuing. "Whose wand, if we all seem to recall was with Lockhart at the time the attack occurred. So unless Neville over there did it to himself – highly unlikely mind you – I doubt that his story is as factual as you claim. Perjury, as you should know, Mr. Spectre, is a serious offense and grounds for the authorization of Veritaserum in court."

Spectre paled, perhaps finally realizing where they had gone wrong. That lasted for but a moment, however, and his recovery came quickly. "That has yet to be proven definitively. In any case, you do not have the right to request for its administration."

"The Prosecution does have that right however." Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling mirthfully. "But before we do, there are some pieces of evidence we have to bring to light. First, the analysis does indeed show that it was Neville Longbottom's wand which cast the charm. According to Mr. Lockhart's testimony, that wand was in his possession at the time. Second, Priori Incantatem conducted by Aurors indicated no spells being cast after the memory charm, which is surprising considering once again that Mr. Lockhart claimed to have engaged in a, and I quote, 'brutal fight'. Additionally, a report forwarded to me by St. Mungo's showed that Mr. Lockhart did not, indeed, check in. Surprising, really, given that he must have been physically and magically drained by his fight."

"I believe, given the evidence, that an administration of Veritaserum should clear this matter up quickly. Your Honor, Prosecution moves to overrule Defense's refusal to take Veritaserum on grounds of sensitive information."

Fudge wasted no time in replying. "Defense's refusal overruled. Aurors, administer the potion."

Two burly aurors clad in their blue robes stalked forward and detained the frightened Lockhart while a third moved to administer the drug. Harry smiled satisfactorily as he watched the defendant sing like a canary. In the end, it seemed, the man's knack for embellishment proved to be his own downfall.


	13. New Year

**AN: Edited as of 8:20 PM. May 4, 2013. GMT 8+**

**Final scene changed. Tinkered with some of the dialogue though more on format than anything.**

**Enjoy, and tell me what you think of it!**

**Chapter 9: The New Year**

**December 27…**

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here," Fudge began coolly, "instead of a cozy little cell in Azkaban."

Lockhart remained silent, but failed to suppress a shiver down his spine.

The Minister of Magic smirked. "You're lawyers are good," Fudge leaned forward, "but we both know the court will rule guilty. _Dumbledore's influence_," he said grudgingly, "will only ensure it."

"That and I kicked your lawyer's ass in court." Harry piped in cheekily.

Fudge pinched his forehead and massaged it. "Why are you here again?"

"A representative for the Prosecution must be present when an offer to settle is made." Gilderoy perked up and straightened his posture. Harry grinned like a Cheshire cat. "One would think you'd be more familiar with the law, sir. After all, _you_ are the _Minister._" Harry drawled out.

"What offer?" Gilderoy interrupted eagerly before the Minister could retort.

Fudge glared at them, but nonetheless slid a piece of parchment across the table.

Potter one-Fudge nil.

Gilderoy grabbed it hastily. His eyes darted suspiciously between the boy and the Minister before he allowed himself to scan through the parchment. "This is…" He paused, looking for the right word.

"A piece of parchment." Harry supplied sarcastically, earning him a scowl from his professor turned convict.

"Most generous of the Ministry." Fudge offered politely in turn.

Lockhart frowned and read over the terms once more, mentally weighing his options. "Your only way out of Azkaban." Harry said with finality. "Those terms offered are non-negotiable, Mr. Lockhart. Unless you wish to conduct research on the Dementors for your next highly fictionalized novel, I suggest you accept them." Harry placed a quill in front of him.

Lockhart did not grab it immediately. "It says here that I must render community service." He raised a brow at them. "What kind of community service are we talking about and for how long exactly?"

Fudge cleared his throat loudly and glanced at Harry nervously. "You are considered a rather…adept practitioner of Memory Charms, correct?" Lockhart didn't respond. "The Ministry has deemed you to be a useful asset. We could certainly use your expertise in a number of projects on going,"

"And the Prosecution," his eyes darted to Harry, "agreed to this?" Lockhart asked skeptically.

Fudge cleared his throat loudly. "The Prosecution pushed for this."

Lockhart sighed. "I suppose I don't really have a choice in the matter."

"You don't." Harry agreed. His smile, if possible, grew even wider once Lockhart signed his name in elegant script. "That's a magically binding contract by the way. You break the terms, you die." Based from his tone, one would never imagine he was talking about something so serious.

A burst of warmth spread through Lockhart's chest as the magic binded him to the deal he had agreed to. "Why do I feel like I just made a deal with the devil?" He muttered to himself.

Harry smirked viciously as he overheard the words. "You might have been better off if you dealt with him instead of me." He turned to leave, but paused just as he touched the handle. "It will be in your best interest to read through the terms again. Just to make sure you understand what you've gotten into." He advised. He looked Lockhart in the eye. "I'd hate for you to suddenly drop dead one day."

Fudge was annoyed, yet impressed at the same time at how well Harry had handled the situation. "It's your life you signed over." He shrugged nonchalantly, pushing back the parchment for Lockhart to peruse. He stood up and tipped his bowler hat and left, leaving a distressed man behind.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office…  
**  
"I trust you enjoyed your visit to Gilderoy?" Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth and savored the sweet with his tongue.

"He agreed to the offer, just like you said he would." Harry reported, taking a seat across his mentor. He politely refused the customary offering of sweets with a wave of his hand. "I don't really see how he could be useful though."

"He may be a fraud, Harry, but he's a very clever man. It is infinitely better that we bring him to our side rather than let him rot in Azkaban. His skill with memory charms, as you have seen firsthand, is remarkable. His popularity, especially among women, is also something to keep in mind. He can be a very powerful ally politically - with the right restrictions, of course. Restrictions, I believe, that we have in place because of this deal."

Harry nodded, but refrained from voicing his doubt.

"Now let us talk about your analysis of Mr. Longbottom. You mentioned there was another anomaly in Neville's case that the Healers couldn't explain?"

"There was a dark aura surrounding Neville's scar according to my rune chain. There are no indications that this has, as of yet, exerted any influence in his thinking, though it is a troubling presence. I…" He paused uncertainly.

"Go on, Harry. Speak your mind." Dumbledore urged.

"I suspect that dark magic may be involved, sir." Harry said.

"I will look into this matter myself." Dumbledore stroked his beard pensively. "If there is something wrong with him, it will be rectified. Now, off you go, Mr. Potter." He made a shooing gesture with his hands.

Harry remained seated, eliciting a questioning brow from Dumbledore. "Sir, don't take this the wrong way, but you haven't exactly taught me anything for the upcoming tournament yet." Not that Harry needed any extra training to sweep the floor with his opponents being a dimension traveler and an apprentice of Nicholas Flamel. Still, it would be interesting to see what Dumbledore, or this version at least, could teach him about dueling.

Dumbledore gave him a grandfatherly smile. "There isn't much I can teach you." He admitted. "Much of dueling is vested in practice and creativity. The latter, you already have in spades if your matches are anything to go by. A normal boy of your age would limit himself to offensive spells and shield charms to win. You employ charms and transfiguration to devastating effect in combat, a trait you inherited from your parents." Dumbledore rose from his high back chair and drew the Elder Wand from his robes. Harry tensed up, thinking he would have to actually go toe-to-toe against the venerated wizard.

"I can give you some tips on the rules though." Dumbledore went through a few dueling poses experimentally. "The rules say that you cannot cast a spell until after you have bowed to your opponent. You know this already of course." Harry agreed silently. He watched Dumbledore curiously as he executed a highly dramatic bow that was composed of many exaggerated wand movements. "What they do allow is for you to begin the wand movement for a spell if it is part of your bow." Dumbledore slashed his wand up, causing a slight tremor through the air.

Harry's eyes widened visibly.

"There are an infinite number of ways one can salute an adversary on the platform. If you can weave wand motions into it, you will gain an edge in being able to case far more complicated spells at the beginning of the fight, while your opponent will be limited to basic ones – shield charms, stunners and the like." Dumbledore leaned forward. "My personal favorite is to place a time-delayed spell somewhere. It is a dead useful charm to learn."

Harry nodded thankfully for the advice. "Just one more thing before I go, Headmaster. See, you know that each House throws a New Year's Party every year right?"

Dumbledore tilted his head. "I may have heard of something to that effect."

"Well, I was hoping to throw one on the Hogwarts grounds. An effort to promote school unity, if you will." Harry explained. "What better way to get everyone together then by throwing what will be the best New Year's party they'll ever experience."

"Well, if it's for inter-house unity and not because of the wager you made with Mr. Diggory then I suppose I can give my consent." Dumbledore smiled mirthfully.

Harry had, in his defense, the decency to look sheepish. "How did you know about that sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Why Harry, haven't you heard? According to the rumor mill, I am now apparently omniscient as well as Merlin reincarnated."

* * *

**December 31…**

The skies were dark and clear that night. Tables were set up on an even patch of ground some distance from the castle, while House Elves milled about setting up things here and there.

"I fail to see how you're going to get everyone here, Harry." Hannah said. "Your preparations are grand and everything, but it's got to be something really big to get the other houses to come to us."

"Why don't you let me worry about that?" Harry nodded to the Weasley Twins as they finally showed up. "Is everything in place?" He asked them.

"Why Harry-"

"Of course-"

"Everything is in place."

"What do you take us for?"

"Amateurs?" They finished together.

Harry snorted at their theatrics and waved them away. "Hannah, did you give Neville the invite, like I told you to?"

"Well, yes." She frowned at him. "I don't see why you couldn't have given it to him yourself. You see him more often." She pointed out. "Why do you need him here anyways?"

Harry directed a house elf to grab a few more things from the castle. "Because, this is going to be the party of the year. How could the boy-who-lived _not _go?" He asked rhetorically.

"So your tactic is to use his fame?"

"Of course not. Not entirely anyways." Harry took a step back and nodded appreciatively to himself as he took in the scene he had orchestrated. "Not bad, Potter. Not bad at all." He praised himself. He looked at his watch, which indicated they had a few hours left until the New Year. Already students from the Hufflepuff house were showing up. A few from the other houses appeared too, having been invited personally by Harry.

"FRED, GEORGE!" Harry called out. The twins looked up and waved at him. He gave them a thumbs up, signaling for them to begin. The two returned a mock salute to him and raised their wands high.

A single fiery streak spiraled up into the air, immediately grabbing the attention of everyone around. It continued to rise, picking up speed until its light was only faintly visible from the ground.

BOOM!

A ring of multicolored light appeared in the sky, capturing the students attention with its brilliant display of pyrokinetics. A wave of "Awwws" were heard as the light faded into the night sky, leaving it as blank as before.

Hannah turned to Harry, who had somehow found the time to grab a sandwich and return while she had been distracted. He swallowed the portion he was chewing on, before mouthing "Watch" to her. She returned her attention back to the sky.

Eerie screeches reached her ears as more lights suddenly shot up into the air, easily recapturing the students' fascination with another bout of light. "What kind of fireworks are those?" Hannah asked, amazed.

Harry smirked. "Those are a little side project I asked Fred and George to do so this is really just the appetizer. Those two are brilliant really! The special effects those two come up with is astonishing. I bet they'll put Dr. Filibuster out of business if they market their product right."

The initial streams of light spiraled each other in a mesmerizing dance. They twisted faster and faster until they reached the summit of their ascent, before colliding into one another to create a burst of blinding light that forced everyone in the vicinity to look away or risk being blinded.

"Ohhhh!"

In place of the explosion was now a giant, animated phoenix in the middle of replicating a series of Quidditch maneuvers. Abruptly, it halted what it was doing and dove straight down.

A few girls tried to shield themselves with their arms, only to find that the animation had pulled up at the last second, performing a perfect Wronski Feint, and now left a streak of magical light just above the crowd, before pulling up once again and mimicking the Phoenix Song. While it was slightly off pitch, the captivated audience clapped loudly, having never seen such a firework that could not only turn into an animated figure but produce sound as well. The phoenix lasted a few more seconds before fizzling out into the night sky.

Anther streak of light shot into the air, and a large fiery ten materialized. The students, realizing its significance counted down with it. "TEN!"

It morphed into a nine. "NINE!" They yelled, synchronizing their shouts with the count.

"EIGHT!"

"SEVEN!"

"SIX!"

"FIVE!"

"FOUR!"

"THREE!"

"TWO!"

"ONE!"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

On cue, loud music, presumably from the collection of one of the muggleborns, began blaring, amplified by a Sonorus Charm. Bottles of butterbeer (or firewhiskey in the case of those past the drinking age) were opened and toasted all throughout the grounds. Dumbledore even showed up and accepted a shot of whiskey himself, much to the surprise of the students.

More streaks of light filled the sky, exploding into figures that matched in complexity the animations of the initial one. Dragons, Pegasi and Unicorns composed purely of light dominated the horizon. There was even a break dancing wizard at one point, which managed to befuddle yet enthrall the purebloods present, while those who were more aware of the muggle dance whooped in appreciation. Red lanterns rose into the sky, charmed to spell out certain words once in a while as they floated together like a flock of birds.

Harry smiled to himself as he took a look at the scene he had created, and took a sip of butterbeer.

Life was good.


	14. Nationals

**Chapter 10: Nationals**

**Oxford Dueling Stadium, February 8**

"Are you nervous?"

Harry yawned loudly, and looked at his brother. Using a tone of complete seriousness, he answered, "Yes."

Anna rolled her eyes and smacked him on the head lightly. "Be nice. I swear your sarcasm will rub off on Edward one of these days! Dealing with one you is quite enough trouble."

"Owww! Are you trying to injure me, woman?" Harry whined, rubbing his head. "That hit could affect my dueling. Is this the appreciation I get for arranging your leave from school to attend your awesome brother's exciting dueling tournament?"

"First of all, I wouldn't call two people flinging spells at each other as exciting." Anna said.

"I don't fling spells at people…" Harry protested. "just tables and, on occasion, a grand piano."

Anna crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Secondly, this is just me getting even, git. You did ignore me for the entire school year. We were in the same school for six months and you didn't even have time to say good morning once."

"Yeah, and the only time you bothered talking to me was to get a book." Edward piped in. "You owe us big."

"You mean getting you passes into this shindig wasn't enough? You people are insatiable." Harry shook his head. "Alright Edward, what do you want."

Without missing a beat, his brother answered. "Teach me how to duel."

Harry raised a brow. "How about no?"

Edward pouted. "Why not?!"

"Dueling is a dangerous pastime." Harry said. "And mum would bury me alive if she found out. Besides, why would you need to learn how to fight?" Harry tore his eyes away from the ongoing duel and looked at his brother.

Edward remained silent, and refused to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry opened his mouth but was interrupted by the announcer. "NEXT MATCH IS HARRY POTTER AND EDMUND CANMORE. I REPEAT, HARRY POTTER AND EDMUND CANMORE."

Harry stood up and stretched his arms. "Good luck out there, Harry." Anna said.

He gave her a cocky smile. "It's me were talking about here. Luck will have nothing to do with it." With that, he stepped into the stage.

The stage was different from those used in Hogwarts. In the regional tournament, they had used raised wooden platforms, which were narrow and long. That had encouraged the tactic of overwhelming your opponent since there was little space to maneuver properly. Here, it was a raised circular stage made of stone about 10 meters in diameter and was a lot more spacious.

A Scottish fellow walked up the platform followed by the referee of the match. Canmore took his place opposite of Harry and the referee positioned himself between the two. "Alright lads, listen up. The duel's format is elimination by knockout, 1 round only. If at any point in the fight you are knocked off the stage, it counts as a knockout. Using illegal spells is an automatic forfeit. You are not allowed to bring in any magical items but your wands." The referee alternated between looking at Harry and Canmore. "I want a good, clean fight from the both of you. Now, bow to your opponents."

Harry took note of the difference in styles between him and Canmore. Harry lightly swayed his body from side to side, constantly shifting his weight and ready to dodge to either side at a moment's notice. He began by pointing his wand to his extreme left, before bringing it around in a semicircle in front of his chest and ending it by raising it in front of his face in a saluting gesture. He preferred to use mobility rather than magic as his primary defense, freeing his wand to cast offensive spells rather than defensive ones.

Canmore, on the other hand, had turned sideways towards Harry, limiting the part of his body that would be exposed to spell fire. At the same time, he had made a large, overhead circular motion with his wand before pointing it at Harry, indicating he was preparing to cast a charm. His style was overtly defensive, a fact Harry planned to take advantage of.

"Begin!"

Canmore, as expected, opened with a powerful shield charm, ready to intercept anything. Harry sent a charm that landed to the right of Canmore, never even being remotely close to hitting him. Canmore, now looking smug, dropped his shield and launched a trio of stunners in response to the "poorly" aimed spell.

As if forewarned, Harry spun to his left before the spells were cast, easily dodging them. He was not idle while spinning though, and managed to complete the wand motion necessary for his next spell just as he finished his turn. "_Bombarda." _Refusing to trust that hex to be enough, Harry chained his wand and began casting yet another charm to follow up, this time a Silencing one. As the wand motion necessary for the Silencing Charm ended, the one for a Blasting Hex began, and by alternating between the two spells, Harry managed to send half a dozen spells in the span of a few seconds, all aimed at pressuring his opponent's left. The action forced his opponent to move to his other side.

Right where Harry wanted him.

Canmore suddenly felt a chill overtake him. His legs became numb and he found that, despite his best efforts, he could not get them to budge. A quick glance confirmed his suspicions. The poorly aimed spell was a trap, a leg locking jinx under a time delay charm, which activated just as he stepped into it. He cursed himself for underestimating his opponent and looked up to see another burst of light heading his way.

Acting purely on instinct, he raised another shield, just in time to absorb the impact of a blasting hex. A second later and he would have been thrown off the stage forcefully.

Harry was impressed with the speed of his adversary's casting. He doubted if even he himself could match the speed at which the shield was raised, and facing anyone else, Canmore probably could have won.

Unfortunately, he was dealing with Harry Potter.

Refusing to grant his enemy a reprieve, Harry conjured a table – his signature move, it seemed – and banished it towards Canmore, before following it up with a stunner for good measure.

Canmore's eyes widened as he saw the piece of furniture headed his way. A Protego Charm was useful for defending against magic, but was next to useless when dealing with physical objects. With no other choice, he dropped his shield and immediately blasted the table to bits. The table, however, was already too close, and Canmore had to cover look away or risk being blinded by the splinters of wood that showered his position.

The next thing he saw the face of his smiling opponent, looking down on him. "You alright there?"

He blinked stupidly. "Yeah, I think so." He accepted Harry's hand and felt himself get pulled up. "What happened?"

"There was a stunner behind the table." Harry explained. "It was a good fight though. Your casting speed was remarkable."

Canmore shook his head. "Not enough to beat you though."

"I just got lucky." Harry admitted. "If you hadn't fallen for the Leg Locker, I probably would have lost."

Canmore couldn't help but grin. "Next time we fight, I won't be falling for that one again."

Harry smiled. "I'll be sure to prepare a few new tricks just for you then." He extended his hand.

The Scotsman shook it firmly. "Good luck to you in your other duels then." His voice showed no hint of ill will despite having lost.

"Thank you." Harry said.

Harry walked off the stage to see Anna smirking at him.

"What?" He asked.

"Quite a sportsman you turned out to be." She definitely overheard his conversation. "It was certainly unlike you."

Harry shrugged. "There's no reason to shove it in the chap's face. Psyching myself up for a fight is one thing, adding insult to injury is just being downright ungentlemanly. Besides, he was a formidable opponent to face. No reason to make him hate me over a trivial affair like gloating."

Edward gawked. "Formidable? It took you less than a minute to wipe the floor with him."

"Actually, if we're counting, it only took 23 seconds." Harry corrected. "And like I said, he was formidable. He was up against _me_ after all." He said pompously.

Anna rolled her eyes at his brother's antics, but struggled to stop the edge of her mouth from curling up. "How many more matches do you have?" She asked, trying but failing, to sound disinterested.

Harry did a few mental calculations before answering. "Five more, if my estimates are correct."

"Only five?" Edward asked curiously. "Why so few?"

"You're forgetting that this is the Nationals for the _Under 17_ Division." Harry emphasized. "You have to take into account that many duelists were eliminated at the regional level and the Department for Magical Sports sets a certain standard for these sort of competitions. Hogwarts was an exception in that we received 3 representatives instead of 1. Being one of the best schools in Europe, it's expected that they produce a better caliber of students than local schools. That's why the top 3 were sent instead of just the champion. It's also the reason, I suspect, of why the National Youth Champion in the past 36 Tournaments has usually been from Hogwarts."

"That sounds unfair to the other schools." Anna said with a frown.

"It's the law, unfortunately, and the law isn't always fair."

* * *

**Auror Office, 1 hour later**

"…and the crowd goes wild! Harry Potter advances to the final round of the tournament!" James smiled widely as he heard the announcement. He was proud of how far his son had gone. In just a few short months, he had managed to turn from an invalid to a Dueling Champion. It wasn't just that aspect that had impressed James though.

Due to the nature of their son's illness, the Headmaster had agreed to send him weekly reports on his son's progress. The first week was pretty normal. He had been called as an exceptionally bright individual with something of a troublemaking streak. When James heard the news, he couldn't have been happier. He saw Harry as a younger version of himself. The normalcy ended there however. Reports began streaming in of his prodigious talent in Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes and DADA. Lily, suffice to say had been ecstatic at the news. Harry even managed to best his professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, at a duel. While James did not think highly of the man anyway, for a Third Year with barely a month of schooling under his belt to defeat a fully grown wizard in magical combat was an impressive feat. Even the Headmaster had nothing but praise for the eldest child of the Potters!

Then, even the newspapers started mentioning Harry. Initially, it was for his role in unveiling Lockhart's crimes. Then there was the court trial where he as a star witness. He was in the headlines for a week from that event alone. That's not even mentioning the fact that he won the Edinburgh Dueling Cup. James was unsure how he felt about his son's sudden fame. On one hand, he was happy that Harry was doing well. On the other, it was attracting attention from certain elements of society he'd rather not be involved with. Just the other day, a pair of Unspeakables had interviewed him about Harry - a fact, in itself, that was worrying enough.

James was snapped out of his thoughts by WWN broadcast again. "…Tell me John, what can you say about the young Harry Potter?"

"Well Tommy, he's certainly an exceptionally gifted lad. He's the second youngest duelist to be fighting in the Nationals, and he'll be the youngest person to hold the title of National Champion for the Youth Division if he wins in his next fight against Sean Callaham."

"Sean Callaham? The Lion of Ireland? He's been the Champion of Northern Ireland for three years running and he was also the National Champ 2 years ago. Potter will certainly be in for a tough fight! Who do you think will win?"

"It's hard to tell really. Callaham looks pretty exhausted to me. Potter, on the other hand, is barely breaking a sweat out there! His fights are impressive in that none of them, so far, have lasted longer than a minute. The boy moves so quickly it's as if he knows what his opponent's going to do before they know it themselves!"

"Tell me about it John. His first fight was particularly impressive. He went up against John Canmore, last year's champion and took him out in record time! He used some particularly advanced charms which earned him a swift takedown. He certainly became a dark horse after-" The announcer's voices suddenly fizzled out.

James looked up from his reports to see Madam Bones standing there with a grim face. "We got tipped off by one of our informants, Captain. There's going to be an attack in fifteen minutes."

"Where could they possibly attack?" James felt his throat constrict as the answer hit him. "Not-not Oxford?"

Bones nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so. It's the only event of any significance today. You-Know-Who's Lieutenant, Yaxley, is going to be there. I'm sending your Hit Squad to capture him. I want Yaxley alive and brought in for questioning." Bones paused, looking intently at James. "I know your children are there, but can you keep focused on the mission? We can't afford to let the man escape so it's going to have to be a quick in and out for your team."

James frowned. "What about the civilians?"

"I'm deploying the Aurors to help evacuate them and counter the Death Eaters. Shacklebolt will be heading them. Can you handle yourself out there James? I can't afford you being distracted in a fight."

"I can manage." James answered with resolve.

Bones nodded. "Good luck out there, Captain."

* * *

**Oxford Dueling Stadium**

Harry took a deep breath as he prepared to face his last opponent for the day. His Core was still in pretty good condition, while he sensed Callaham's to be under half of his fighting strength. Of course, if that was translated to the number of spells each one could cast, he was still outclassed. Deftly, he pulled off his gloves and handed them to Edward. "Hold on to these for me, will you?"

"Sure thing, bro. Kick some butt out there!" Edward cheered.

Harry grinned and stepped onto the stage.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE FINAL ROUND FOR THE NATIONAL DUELING TOURNAMENT, JUNIOR DIVISION! WE HAVE SEAN CALLAHAM, THE LION OF IRELAND, UP AGAINST HARRY 'BLITZKRIEG' POTTER!" Harry winced at the nickname the announcer had bestowed upon him. Couldn't they have thought of a better one?

The referee stepped up. "Boys, you two know the rules. Keep it clean. Bow to your opponents." He instructed.

Unlike Canmore, Callaham's style screamed attack. He had his wand pulled back, ready to snap forward for the thrusting action necessary for many jinxes, while his feet were planted firmly on the ground to keep himself balanced when he did cast his spell. It left him open to a quick strike if his opponent was fast enough, and Harry realized that Canmore's quick reflexes would have allowed him to cast a stunner and raise a shield. That explained how Canmore won last year.

Harry had no intention of trying such a risky move though and had opted to stick to a simple salute, bringing his wand in front of his face. The simple salute's advantage lay in the fact that one could easily transition into any style they wished with relative ease, and it gave away none of your plans to our opponent. The downside, of course, was obvious enough. It would take you longer to get a spell off since there was no preparation involved.

"Begin!"

With rehearsed ease, Harry enhanced his limbs and executed an aerial flip in place, narrowly missing the Tongue Tying Jinx that Callaham had sent. He raised his shield to deflect the next three jinxes that were sent his way. He watched with a grin as Callaham jinxes his shield ineffectually, and began casting a rune chain he had prepared just for this situation.

His opponent saw what he was doing and stepped up his attempts to break the shield. If he could get Harry to cast a spell before the chain was complete, the rune chain would have to be made from the beginning. It was one of the reasons why Runes were rarely used in duels anymore. Harry placed the finishing touches on his chain just as his shield began faltering.

Without hesitation, Harry let the shield drop, and activated the runes. He turned his eyes to watch an oncoming spell, yet he refused to budge an inch despite the spell being right on target, much to the confusion of Callaham.

The reason became obvious enough though. The spell, very abruptly, fizzled out, as if the magic was simply sucked out of it. It turned into nothing more than a shower of colorful, if harmless, sparks.

Harry smirked, and raised a brow at his opponent, silently challenging him to try again. Callaham growled. "_BOMBARDA!_"

Harry, for his part, didn't even look remotely concerned about the oncoming spell. In fact, he even took a few steps forward, goading his opponent. It dissipated moments after it had left Callaham's wand, the true extent of his runes now becoming apparent. Many underage witches and wizards would simply have dropped their wand at this point. To his credit, Callaham was actually fairly knowledgeable about runes and decided to exploit another weakness.

He tried to overload it with magic.

Unfortunately, one person alone could not so easily overpower a rune chain. Harry speculated that Canmore might have been able to do so, but for an underage wizard who was restricted to using Ministry approved spells, it would take far too long.

Harry idly flung stunners at Callaham, all the while extending the range of his Magical Disruption field. A few moments later and Callaham had been knocked out, limited in his options.

"UNBELIEVEABLE FOLKS!" Harry heard the announcers say. "HARRY POTTER HAS MANAGED TO DEFEAT CALLAHAM WITH A SURPRISING TRICK! I DON'T BELIEVE I'VE EVER SEEN A RUNE CHAIN USED AT THE JUNIOR LEVEL BEFORE! WHAT ABOUT YOU TOMMY?"

Harry ignored the rest of the announcers' drivel and went to enervate his opponent, as was his habit. As he did so, panicked shrieks began coming from the stadium. Harry's face turned grim as he saw that an ethereal serpent danced around a skull above them. It was the mark of the Voldemort, and perhaps the first time, he realized, that he had heard or seen of an attack in this dimension.

"_Accio Gloves_!" Harry hissed, pointing his wand at Edward, who was cowering in fear. Masked men in black robes began appearing and flashes of light indicated that they were casting spells. Around him, Harry noticed that three of the Death Eaters had approached the base of the stage and were beginning to overload his runes. He had, perhaps a few seconds.

Harry pulled his gloves tightly down on his hands to make sure they were snug, just as he felt his rune chain breakdown. He saw a stunner head his way. Without hesitation, Harry raised his glove to intercept it, and his glove emanated a soft glow.

Before the Death Eaters could react, the stunner shot out of Harry's outstretched palm like a rocket, slamming into the one that had cast it in the first place. They were stunned, to say the least.

Harry normally hated having to injure others too much in a duel and often went for quick, decisive strikes to win. Against Death Eaters though, he had no qualms with unleashing his full magical potential. "_Flagrate." _Harry hissed vehemently. A stream of fire burst from his wand. Directing it like a whip, he managed to entangle one of the men in it.

The man screamed as he felt his skin burn, and he struggled against the flames, to no avail. Harry maintained his iron grip and refused to let the fire die down.

His companion reacted quickly enough though, and tried to disarm Harry. It was strange that they were using non lethal spells to subdue him. Harry used his free hand to absorb the spell, before redirecting it towards the entangled Death Eater. The man's wand was ripped from his hand, and Harry cancelled his spell, leaving the man charred, but alive. He doubted the masked man would be able to get up anytime soon.

Harry turned his attention towards the last Death Eater and began calculating the best way to take him down. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a grand piano above his last contender's head, and sent it crashing down with a force of 9.8 meters per second squared. It brought Harry no end of satisfaction to see the piano crush the man's body.

"Well done, Potter." Harry spun around to see another Death Eater holding his brother captive. "Now drop your wand."

Harry tightened his grip. "I've already taken down three of your companions. I doubt taking out one more will be much of a problem."

"Those men you downed were amateurs, hardly trained fighters. They help fill out the ranks though and the Dark Lord accepted them. What is one to do?" He shrugged casually. "You'll find I'm a far more accomplished fighter."

"Let go of my brother than, you coward!" Harry jeered. "Face me like a man, or are you afraid of a boy?"

The man scoffed. "Hardly, I just fail to see why I should give up an advantage so willingly. I didn't come here to chit chat, Potter." He pressed his wand into Edward's throat, choking the boy a little. "Let go of your wand, or your brother. It's really of no consequence to me which option you choose."

Harry looked at his brother with sorrowful eyes. "Forgive me, Edward. _Sectumsempra!_"

The man sighed. "I was afraid you'd do something like this." He stunned Edward and threw him to one side, and flicked away the spell playfully. A scream followed, and Harry saw one of the dark robed men go down. "Tsk tsk…that was a particularly nasty curse. One would think you were actually trying to kill me."

"One would be correct."

"My, my, I certainly misjudged you. You're a far _better _duelist than I thought." He paused dramatically. "It's a shame I have to kill you now."

"I doubt that."

"What makes you say so?"

"Your friends haven't used anything lethal so far. That's definitely not modus operandi of Death Eaters. If I had to guess, I'd say you're here for hostages."

The man grinned. "Perceptive as well! You'll be quite a catch, Harry Potter. The Dark Lord will be most pleased when I bring him to you." He raised his wand and froze like a statue, falling over to reveal a man donning Auror robes.

"Nice of you lot to finally show up." Harry said, nodding thankfully to the man.

"You kids better get out of here. Things are going to become very messy very quickly." The Auror enervated Edward and Anna, who Harry only noticed was unconscious on the floor. Harry kicked the Death Eater in the head for good measure.

"Follow me, and I'll get you out of here." The man was barely able to take three steps before a rogue killing curse took him down.

Harry sighed, largely unaffected. "So much for the heroic rescue." He blocked a stunner that was headed straight for him, and sent it right back towards the caster. Certain that the reflected spell had reached its origin, Harry gestured to his siblings to follow.

If the Aurors couldn't get them out of here alive…

Harry dispassionately stunned another Death Eater that was in his way, not wanting to be overtly violent with his siblings watching.

…then Harry would make his own way out.

* * *

**Outside the Stadium**

"Alright men, listen up!" James Potter barked. "Our objective is to secure the Death Eater known as Yaxley. He'll be the one directly in charge of the Death Eaters, so keep your eyes peeled and your wands ready for anyone that looks like he's in charge. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" His four subordinates replied.

He nodded to them. "Breach the doors, and let's take this man down." Two of his men positioned themselves at either side of the breach point, while the other two took their place besides James.

"Jones, Ready!"

"Thompson, Ready!"

"Riley, Ready!"

"Underwood, Ready!"

**"**Potter Ready. Breach!" James called out. The two besides him blasted the door open. At the same time, James sent a gust of air to blow the dust and debris from the resulting explosion inside. It would serve as a smokescreen of sorts to cover their entrance. Before he finished the though, the two men near the wall moved in and set up shields, while those beside him rushed forward. James joined them soon after.

"Move out." Working as a five man team rather than five individuals, the group easily picked their way through the chaos inside the stadium. James began looking for the target, yet always dreading seeing the bodies on the floor. He could picture his children lying in a pool of their own…

James snapped himself out from his dangerous train of thought, focusing on the task at hand. "Anyone have eyes on the target?"

"Negative sir."

James scowled. From a glance, he could see the situation quickly deteriorating. There were at least five Death Eaters still concentrated in the center of the Stadium engaged in a fight with someone and twenty more scattered along the fringes. Most of them were engaged in beating back the outnumbered Aurors, and the difference in numbers only grew larger with each passing second.

James felt his blood chill as he recognized who was engaged with the Death Eaters. At the center of the stadium, he spotted his eldest son engaged in a battle with the _five_ Death Eaters, all the while trying to protect his brother and sister. Even from a distance, he could see his son was tiring, unready for the pressures and fatigue that came with extensive combat.

James pointed. "There at the center. That's where Yaxley will probably be." It was the truth too; helping his son out was simply a bonus.

He heard Thompson, his second in command, let out a low whistle. "Your son's quite a fighter, sir. You've trained him well." Harry had managed to send a Death Eater flying into the ceiling with some unknown charm. At least a dozen Death Eaters were unconscious surrounding the Stadium, and while not doubt many of those were Auror hits, it was still impressive for a Third Year to last this long in a fight.

James wasn't interested in exchanging pleasantries with his colleague just yet though. He still had a job to do, and children to save. "_Impedimenta! Expelliarmus!" _His spells hit one of the four engaged with his son in the back, rendering the man useless. His men surged forward to take on the last three Death Eaters, herding them away from the Potter children.

James watched his children take the opportunity to run, and he watched them for a moment to make sure they were safe, before joining his men. "Sir, target identified!" He heard Thompson shout.

He'd make Yaxley pay for trying to attack his children.

* * *

**Omake 1 – Many Thanks to Kingdark for the suggestion ^^**

"Move out." Working as a five man team rather than five individuals, the group easily picked their way through the chaos inside the stadium. James began looking for the target, yet always dreading seeing the bodies on the floor. He could picture his children lying in a pool of their own…

James Potter took in the scene that awaited them. It was not quite what they had expected.

"Hello there! Nice of you to _finally _show up. It was starting to get awfully dull here." The entire team was dumbfounded, to say the least, when they found one Harry Potter sitting on a pile of unconscious Death Eaters. "You know, say what you will about these guys but they make awesome chairs." Harry said offhandedly, patting one his "cushions."

James couldn't bring himself to say anything, despite the fact that his mouth was no hanging open from shock.

Thud.

"Umm…sir?" One of his men, Thompson, called out to James. "Riley just passed out. We think it's because of shock."

James continued to ignore his men. "H-how did you…do this, Harry?" James managed to say, after exerting a herculean amount of effort to regain control of his vocal cords.

Harry waved his wand in a small arc in front of him. A burst of color appeared, taking the form of a rainbow. Extra sparkly glitters, at the center of the rainbow, formed the word "Magic."

Thud.

"Sir! Thompson just fainted!"

James felt like fainting himself as well.


	15. T G R Inc

**AN: **Revised as of May 13, 2013 GMT 9:12 PM.

Not many changes to it so it doesn't matter if you reread it or not. Most of the changes or in the first part of the chapter, and has some hints on why Harry is acting the way he is (a little OC).

**Chapter 11: T.G.R Inc. **

**20 minutes later, Oxford Dueling Stadium**

"_Stupefy," _muttered Harry, as he made a jab with his wand. His aim remained true, despite his fatigue, and yet another Death Eater crumpled onto the floor in a helpless heap.

Harry let go of the breath he had unconsciously been holding in. He refused, however, to let his guard down just yet, and remained crouched in the shadows of a staircase, despite being but a few meters from the exit. His eyes were sharp, like a hawk's, and continuously scanned the area in search of any threats. Behind him, Edward and Anna waited with trembling wands drawn.

"I'll go out first to make sure the area's clear." Harry whispered to them. He did not wait for their reply.

He abruptly rolled forward, breaking cover, and used the momentum to push himself into a standing position. An incantation was on the tip of his tongue and his wand was already in motion before his mind could even take stock of the situation. Fortunately enough, it proved to be an unnecessary effort as there was no one conscious in the vicinity.

He was aware, however, that looks could be deceiving and decided to be extra sure. It wasn't just his life at stake, after all.

"_Homenum Revelio."_ There were no glows that indicated human presence, aside from those that Harry was already aware of. Satisfied, he let the glows fade out with a swish of his wand.

"It's safe." Harry said. Anna and Edward crawled out from underneath the staircase. Harry gestured towards the exit, and turned to face away from it, covering their backs from any surprises. He waited a few seconds after he heard their footsteps before backpedaling.

"Faster! We have to cover the exits before Potter gets away!"

Harry cursed inwardly as he heard more people coming at him. They were rapidly closing the distance too and it would only be a matter of time before they rounded the corner and had a clear shot at him. Harry glanced over his shoulder, estimating the distance left to cover, and cursed again. They'd be exposed for far too long and he didn't have enough magic for another fight. He looked at his gloves, and sighed. They wouldn't be of much help either, having already burned out from overload earlier that day.

Neither would he risk a stray spell hitting one of his siblings. The footsteps became louder, and he made his choice.

He whirled around and swiped his wand in a horizontal arc in the same motion with what little strength he had left, sending out a gush of pressurized air that propelled a surprised Edward and a screeching Anna rapidly towards the exit. Harry waited a second to make sure his spell had deposited them outside of the stadium, before turning around to face the oncoming threat. The terrorists with their distinct dark robes and skull masks fanned out of the corner just as he did.

"Drop your wand, Potter! You're outnumbered and outclassed." One of them said.

Harry raised his wand in response, yet was aware that he hadn't the strength to cast anything more than a levitation charm without possibly destabilizing his core.

For the first time since he started fighting to get out, Harry felt tired. Weakly, he dropped to one knee, panting heavily. His strength was sapped from the fight and he had pushed his body and his core to its limit. It was a testament to his willpower that he lasted this long, but sheer willpower alone was no longer enough. His body had reached a breaking point.

Without looking up, he could tell that the Death Eaters approaching, slowly surrounding him. Harry smiled to himself. They were safe. That was enough.

Harry closed his eyes, silently accepting that his journey would end here. He never thought that three low level Death Eaters would be the ones to finally take him down. He had thought Voldemort might do him in, or perhaps one of his Lieutenants. He had thought he might have succumbed to poison, or Dragons, or even Dementors. For it to end like this was a travesty.

It was downright insulting. Was fate mocking him?

His nostrils flared angrily. To _hell _with damaged magical cores. If he was going down, he'd take as many of the bastards as he could with him. He slammed his right palm into the ground, ignoring his nerves as they screamed at him to stop. He lifted his head, a look of hatred etched on his face now. His eyes burned with a fire - it was a look of a man possessed.

The Death Eaters took an unconscious step back when they saw it.

Harry slammed his hands into the floor again, a small puddle of blood beginning to form where he had struck.

The earth began to rumble, as if it was waking from a deep sleep. "What the hell is going on?" The Death Eater to his right asked.

"It's Potter's-" A piece of the ceiling had knocked the man unconscious before he could finish what he was saying.

He slammed again.

The floor cracked, threatening to split open and consume them all.

"_Stupefy!" _

Slam.

The ground trembled more violently than before, causing the spell to go wide.

Harry raised his right palm higher into the air this time, preparing to slam into the ground one last time. "You'll bring down the whole ceiling and kill us all!" shrieked one of the Death Eaters.

Harry looked the man in the eye. "I know." It was whispered softly, though the wind carried his words. The man's eyes widened.

A soft buzz rung in his ears, but he ignored it in favor of the task at hand. Harry brought his hand down hard. Just before his hand made contact with the concrete floor, he felt something hit him. The force of it wasn't that strong, but given his weakened state, it was enough to send him sprawling forward, preventing Harry from sealing his own tomb.

He closed his eyes and waited for the darkness to take him.

Harry felt his body get lifted into the air and dragged away from the scene. Harry did not struggle, and wondered briefly if his soul was passing on. He mused whether he would get sent to Heaven or Hell for a while, before the cruel glare of the sun greeted him.

Harry blinked stupidly. "I'm not dead?" He asked aloud to no one in particular. He felt his body lower into the ground and the ticklish sensation of grass at his back.

An imposing man hovered over Harry, thankfully shading Harry from the sun for a while. "No, not just yet, Mr. Potter." The man knelt then helped Harry sit up from the bed of grass he had been placed on. He handed Harry a potion. "It's a Pep'r Up." He said when he saw Harry look uncertainly at the offered vial.

Strangely enough, Harry felt compelled to trust the man, and accepted his offer. Harry drank it quickly then coughed as some of it went down the wrong end of his windpipe.

"Take it easy, lad." The man said.

"HARRY!" The man found himself unceremoniously pushed out of the way by two very concerned Potters.

"Are you alright?" Anna asked. Harry noted the bruises on her arms.

He pointed to them. "S-sorry a-about push…pushing you t-two out." Harry managed to say before coughing, worrying them even more. "The landing w-was a bit r-r-rougher than I h-had planned." He said weakly.

"You saved our lives Harry!" Edward exclaimed. "A few bruises are hardly anything to worry about."

"Will you be alright?" Anna asked.

"Yes, he will." The three of them turned to look at the man who had been sidelined. "You did a remarkable job fighting off those terrorists in there, Mr. Potter. The name's Augustus, head of security for T.G.R Summit Holdings. My employer would like to speak with you."

"When?" Harry asked.

"Now would be best." Augustus said, offering Harry a piece of rope. "This portkey will take you straight to our Headquarters in Diagon Alley."

"What he needs now is a Healer!" Anna protested.

"I understand your concerns for your brother, Ms. Potter. There will be a Healer on site to tend to his wounds before the meeting. Now, I must insist you take the portkey."

Harry looked at the rope, then back at the stadium. "My dad's still inside."

Augustus sighed audibly, and looked around. The area surrounding the stadium was full of activity now. Worried parents and children were tended to by Healers, while the blue robed Aurors rushed about securing the Perimeter. "I'll take care of it after you leave. My men, the security detail of T.G.R, are waiting for me to enter the complex and take control of the stadium. We'll find your father and get him out as soon as you leave." Augustus promised.

Harry struggled with himself for a while. A part of him desperately wanted to trust the man. Yet, years of fighting had made him understand the necessity of caution. Here was a stranger, who despite having saved his life, was still an unknown. He had never heard of this T.G.R before, and didn't even know if it existed. For all he knew, the portkey might dump him at the bottom of the ocean, where his body would never be found.

Harry looked past the man and noticed there were quite a few men observing them from a distance. Those were probably Augustus's men. Oddly enough, Harry found himself becoming more comfortable with the idea of taking the portkey, and he found his left hand moving on its own to touch the magical device.

Augustus frowned momentarily as he watched the young man have an internal debate, before smiling widely again. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter. You shan't be harmed at T.G.R. You have my word." He promised.

As if by magic, the struggle inside Harry ended. He smiled at Augustus, and reached out towards the rope. Then, he was gone from the field.

Augustus walked away from the Potter siblings and withdrew a mirror from his robes. A face appeared on the mirror. "Potter has been transported."

* * *

**T.G.R. Headquarters**

"Copy that, Potter has arrived."

"No, the Healer is still working on him."

"Yes, the boss insists that you do."

"How am I supposed to know what he wants with them? It's not as if he tells me everything."

"I'll talk to you later. _He _is going to talk to Potter now."

* * *

**T.G.R. Headquarters, Interview Room**

Harry looked on passively as the door slid open to reveal a man clad in gray robes. "Thank you, Healer. You may leave now." His voice was smooth, but stern, leaving no room for argument in the matter. He gave the Healer a small nod, and waited until the man was out of the room before closing the door. He turned to face Harry again.

Harry took a closer look at the man. He was of average height, and had a light tan to his skin. His hair had been gelled back and was well kept. The man's face was handsome enough, and Harry would say the man was barely in his sixties, though he looked to be in his thirties still. His smile was disarming, instantly compelling its recipient to trust the man.

What struck Harry the most, though, were his eyes.

They were black, dark orbs that seemed to go through you. His eyes were contemplative and intense, vaguely hypnotizing even. Behind them though, Harry could see the man was thinking, planning, calculating. He felt drawn to the man.

They stayed as they were for a while, content with studying each other.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter, to T.G.R. HQ." The man began, opening his arms in welcome. The feeling of trust he had before only intensified when he heard his voice.

Harry tilted his head. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don't know who you are, but you clearly know who I am."

The man's smile grew even larger. "My name's Thomas and this," he gestured to the room at large, "is my company."

Harry looked around at the rather plain room to distract himself. He struggled to control his mouth from spilling out every secret he knew, and instead decided to keep it occupied by being cheeky. "Your company is limited to a room?" He leaned forward, ignoring the look of shock Thomas had. "Not much to look at is it?"

Extra cheeky.

Thomas chuckled. "The newspapers do no justice to your cheek."

"It's the _newspapers_." Harry drawled. "If they did justice to anything, you might think they'd start reporting facts instead of fiction. I mean honestly, I've been called a misogynist at least a dozen times now for putting Lockhart in custody. It's certainly not my fault the favorite eye candy of British witches just happened to be a criminal as well."

"Quite right, Mr. Potter."

They lapsed into silence once more. "So why am I here anyway?" Harry asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"Unofficially, you're here because I find myself intrigued by you." Thomas admitted.

"Your curiosity towards me, I hope, is in a completely platonic sense? Because I'm going to have to put a stop to your efforts to woo me right now if you're gay." Harry said plainly.

Thomas seemed unaffected by his jibe at his sexuality. "Rest assured, my interest is completely intellectual. Officially, you are here as part of the debriefing over the Death Eater attack on Oxford Stadium."

Harry raised a brow. "I wasn't aware that your company had jurisdiction now. I am almost certain that this should concern Aurors more than a _private_ company."

"Not when said private company owns the property in question." Thomas answered immediately. "Ministry War Decree 903, private company's get first rights over debriefing witnesses provided all information is forwarded to Ministry Aurors within 36 hours of an interview." He stated from memory.

"T.G.R. owns Oxford Stadium." Harry said skeptically. "What kind of name is T.G.R anyway?"

"T.G.R. is the initials of the company's founder. The full name is actually T.G.R. Holdings, Inc.." Thomas said.

"Your company's founder named the company after himself? That's rather vain of him."

Thomas shrugged nonchalantly, remaining completely unaffected by Harry's efforts to get a reaction from him. "He founded the company, he gets to name it." He opened the manila folder that had been ignored, and withdrew a pen from his robes.

It was Harry's turn to look surprised. "That's quite unconventional of you to use muggle equipment."

"We find that being unconventional has its advantages." He uncapped the pen. "Shall we begin with the debriefing?"

"Do I have an actual choice in the matter or are you just giving me the illusion that I have one?" Harry asked.

"Let's go with the latter. Any reason you can think of why the Death Eaters would target you in particular?"

"You mean aside from the fact that I am incredibly annoying? I suppose to get at my dad. Then again, considering that the other duelists were targeted too, I would have to say that the Death Eaters were after hostages rather than specific targets." Harry said.

"What reason would they have to do that?"

"How would I know? I'm not a Death Eater. But if I had to guess, I'd say either to train up an army of child soldiers or to use them as leverage against the Ministry." Harry paused, before asking a question of his own. "Why are you asking me for my opinion anyway? I'm a thirteen year old, hormonal wizard."

"Your speculations, if nothing else, are amusing enough." Thomas said, scribbling a few notes down. "Besides, we have to make a show of taking this seriously and what not for the Aurors. They have a mandatory line of questioning I have to follow to maintain the 'quality' of these interrogations. It's all rather ridiculous really." He pushed the manila folder towards Harry. "I took the liberty of filling up the general information sheet based on the Ministry's records. Here, see for yourself."

"Name, age, medical history?" Harry read. He looked at Thomas to see if he was reading things right. Thomas urged him to continue. "Blood status, civil status, place of residence…am I being debriefed or am I being stalked?"

"A little of both I suppose."

"Why does your company have access to Ministry records anyway? Aren't you into real estate or something?" Harry asked.

"Technically, we are a company that's job is to own other companies." Thomas answered.

"Well, isn't that redundant?"

"It's for legalities sake."

"Yes, that makes it so much better."

"Do you take anything seriously?" Thomas asked, more curious than angry.

"I find that taking life too seriously in general will, more often than not, stress you out more than necessary."

"Well, as I was saying, one of our companies is involved in real estate. One of our main concerns though, is privately contracted security. We deal with wards, curse breaking, bodyguards and defensive accessories. The nature of our business, given our 'importance' to the war effort, allows us access to what is usually sensitive information." Thomas explained. He paused, as if waiting for something. "What, no comment this time?"

"It's no fun if you're expecting it." Harry replied. "Will there be any more questions?"

Thomas looked over his papers. "I don't think so. We still have to stay here for another hour though – Ministry policy regarding these things, I'm afraid."

"The Ministry's policy is to waste time." Harry commented.

"Apparently so." Thomas agreed. "We might as well make the best of it though. Tell me, do you play chess?"

"On occasion, I find it to be a stimulating activity." Harry said.

Thomas drew his wand, and tapped the table thrice. A square segment of steel popped up, splitting from the table until it was only connected by a central hinge. Mechanically, it rotated one eighty, revealing a standard 8 by 8 chess board, before it merged with the table again. "E4." The king's pawn sprang into life, and moved forward two squares. Thomas gestured to Harry.

"C5." Harry said.

Thomas looked at his pawn with curiosity. "That's an interesting choice for a move. C3."

"Standard wizarding lines always did bore me. E5."

"Knight to F3. I suppose you prefer muggle openings?"

"Knight C6. Some of them have remarkable skill in the game."

"I take it then that you do not buy into the whole blood supremacy nonsense?" Thomas asked, looking at Harry rather than board. "D4."

Harry snorted. "Considering my mother is a muggle born, and therefore I am a half-blood, I think that's a fair assessment. C5 capture D4." The pawn drew its hammer, and whacked the other piece with enough force to send it off the board. Harry watched it with morbid fascination.

"C3 capture D4." This time, Harry's piece went flying. "Point taken."

"Quite an interesting effect. I don't think I've ever seen a board that knocks pieces away instead of destroying the piece." Harry commented. "Knight to F6. I suppose, based on your comment, you don't but into any of that as well?"

"Knight C3. I'm a half-blood myself, to be frank. I don't think I could kill off my muggle half if it came to it." Thomas said.

"Pawn to D4, capture."

"Knight D4, capture."

"Bishop to B4. How actively involved is your company in the war, anyway?" Harry asked.

"Knight capture C6." Thomas paused. "I'd say we have quite a vested interest in the war. We supply the Ministry with quite a lot of things. Most of an Auror's gear is produced by my company nowadays."

"B2 to C6. Then this war has made you a rich man."

"I could be richer." Thomas said with a shrug. "E5."

"Ambitious aren't we?" Harry asked, referring to both their game and their discussion. "Bishop to C3, check."

Thomas smirked. "I _was _in Slytherin after all. Got to keep that House spirit alive, eh? B2 to C3, capture. What about you though? Any idea what you want to be when you grow up?"

"Knight to D5." Harry moved after a few seconds of staring at the board. "I haven't given it quite as much thought."

Thomas frowned. "You don't strike me as the type to leave these things unplanned. Queen to G4. In fact, if your dueling style is anything to go by, I'd say you are rather obsessive about planning."

"King's side castling." Harry was barely looking at the board anymore. "I plan when it's necessary."

"Bishop to H6." Thomas said with a smirk. "I have an offer for you, Harry."

"I'm listening."

"The special adjustment you made to your gloves are quite interesting. Some of my men who saw you in action are already raving about the genius behind the idea. While I wouldn't go as far as to call it a revolutionary invention, it does represent a significant amount of development and research on your part. That means a lot of time and a lot of effort."

Harry nodded, agreeing. "That's true enough."

"As I'm sure you are somewhat aware, there are very few people nowadays who are capable, much less willing, to commit to recreating runic chains as complex as yours." Thomas leaned forward. "I'd like to buy and patent your formula."

Harry had a thoughtful look on his face before opening his mouth. Thomas watched him with anticipation. "Rook to E8."

"Huh?" Thomas' face scrunched up. He looked down, and saw it was his turn. "Queen to G7, checkmate. You really should pay more attention next time we play." He chided.

"I would, but I wasn't trying to win. Just trying to prove a point." Harry replied.

"Which is?"

"That you are a man who is proud." Harry said pointedly. "By beating me at the game, you're inciting nothing but ill will, when you should be doing the reverse in order to convince me to accept your proposition."

Thomas looked confused. "So you're saying I should have thrown the game?"

"Yes." Harry replied matter-of-factly. "In any case, I can't quite accept your proposition. Like you, I take pride in what I accomplish. For you it is beating a thirteen year old at chess, for me it's creating a complex magical artifact, but the feeling is the same. I'm not going to sell off my work for some gold." Harry scoffed. "I do have an alternate proposition though. I'll give you my formula, you market it to the Ministry at an overpriced value, and we share in the profits, 50-50." Harry leaned back into his chair.

"You are smarter than I thought." Thomas looked conflicted, debating with himself whether to accept the deal or not. "Alright, I think I can work with what you're offering."

"Our thirty minutes are up. It's been a pleasure, sir." Harry stood up, offering Thomas his hand.

Thomas stood and shook it. "The pleasure was mine, Mr. Potter. I'll have my lawyers contact yours then?" Harry nodded, and Thomas gestured to the door. "One of my men will show you the way out and hand you a portkey back to Hogwarts."

"And my dad? Has he been found?"

"He was found unconscious at the stadium, but otherwise unharmed. He is reporting back at Ministry as we speak." Thomas said.

"Thank you." Harry left the room.

Thomas waved his wand to shut the door. He turned around to see a masked wizard cancel his disillusionment charm. "Was that really wise?" The wizard asked. "You slipped up quite a few details. The Dark Lord will not be pleased."

Thomas glared at him. "I'm quite sure he'll be angry, Yaxley, but he and I both understand that sometimes compromise is necessary. Reassure him that this has changed nothing."

Yaxley tilted his head. "Of course, sir."

* * *

**Omake 2: Thanks to stonegnome1**

** Lockhart's Lawyers**

Barrister Spectre listened patiently as his client, Gilderoy Lockhart, regaled him with his, quite boring, tale. "Let me get this straight." He began. "You challenged this boy, Harry Potter, to a duel and lost?"

"Yes, I've already told you that." Lockhart answered irritably. Clearly it was still a sore subject for him.

"Now, you want to sue him for assault charges?" Lockhart nodded. "Are you daft man?!" Spectre shouted. "Had he actually been the one to challenge you perhaps, mind you, _perhaps _I could have made a case. But with this, you're just asking to lose outright. The Wizengamot would never bother with our case."

Lockhart bristled. "I don't care much for losing. Just make it happen! I want Potter to pay."

Spectre pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes, he just really hated his job. "Gilderoy, think about it this way. If we proceed against Mr. Potter we will have to explain why a well known expert in the dark arts was defeated by a third year who was home schooled because he was recovering from a disease which reduced his magical power. Think of the affect on your book sales."

Lockhart thought about it for a moment, clearly weighing the implication it might have on his sales –and more importantly – his fans. "Hmm…you make a good point. I suppose I could let him off just this one time. Mercy is a virtue after all."

Spectre agreed with him outwardly, glad that he had averted yet another catastrophe. He sighed happily and relaxed as he watched one of his richer clients walk out happy. "Well at least we won't be getting into trouble with Potter anymore."

* * *

**AN: **Yeah! Another chapter finished!

For those interested, I have placed the game notation below.

E4 c5

C3 e5

Nf3 Nc6

D4 cxd4

Cxd4 Nf6

Nc3 exd4

NxD4 Bb4

NxC6 BxC6

E5 Bxc3+

bxc3 Nd5

Qg4 O-O

Bh6 Re8

Qg7++


	16. Negotiations

**Chapter 12: Negotiations**

**Barrister Spectre's Office, a week after the attack**

There was but one thing Spectre could boast of in his professional career – his, until recently, untarnished track record. Being a barrister was tough in the magical world. There were no law schools or professors or even a board exam. That, of course, meant that, in effect, meant anyone could practice. The lack of restrictions or even qualifications for the job ensured that there was plenty of competition. To make thing even worse, many ignorant folks decided that hiring a Barrister wasn't all that important since anybody could do it. To hell if their legal representative actually knew, much less understood, what he was dealing with!

Things weren't all bad though. A few _very wealthy _individuals had enough brain cells to comprehend that competent lawyers could make all the difference in the courtrooms. The small circle of barristers who actually bothered to study the antiquated and sometimes self-contradictory laws of magical Britain thrived on the generosity of their wealthy patrons. Of course, it meant that in their circle, the only rule was survival to the fittest. Barristers would compete _mercilessly _to gain the favor of a patron, as these were often few and far between.

To deal professionally in the law business, one needed an edge to ensure they would remain in the good graces of the wealthy. For Spectre, it had always been his record. Ever since he had entered the arena of rhetoric, he had remained undefeated. Every case he handled, he won, or, at the very least, gained a favorable compromise! Every man and woman who _dared _to face him in the field of legal battle was crucified before the Wizengamot! Every client of his…well, you get the point.

Suffice to say when news broke out that he had been defeated for the first time in his career, more than a few of his clients had left him. He was no longer undefeated. When news broke out that he had been beaten _by a child,_ he became the laughing stock among his colleagues. In one fell swoop, he had lost everything. And it was all because of the Potter brat.

"Get out." said Spectre, his hands shaking from anger.

"Come now, Barris-" said Harry, twirling his wand absently in one hand.

"Get. Out. _Now._" hissed Spectre, his eyes lowered in a dangerous manner.

Harry sighed, and tucked his wand away. "Listen, Mr. Spectre. I'm sorry about having ruined your perfect record, but understand that you were taking on a hopeless case! Gilderoy, despite being a marketing genius, is utterly incapable of a little discretion." apologized Harry, a sheepish grin plastered onto his face. "You should know. You had to represent the man _legally_, after all."

Spectre refrained from commenting, though he inwardly agreed with Potter.

"That said, I've come here with a proposition in mind."

Spectre's ears perked up, though his face remained impassive. Then again, he mused, business was business. "You have my attention."

Harry nodded thankfully. "You've heard of T.G.R., I take it?" asked Harry. The man nodded his head, and Harry continued. "Well, they've made me an offer for one of my inventions, the Potter gloves."

"The Potter gloves?" repeated Spectre, his brows furrowed. Harry removed the one he was wearing, and handed it to him to examine. "What does it do?" asked Spectre curiously, his finger tracing one of the intricate runes.

"It can stop spells midair and dissipate their magic." replied Harry. "I've been working on a variation of that rune chain recently with the hopes that it can absorb spells instead then redirect them at a later time."

"Did it work?" asked Spectre eagerly, his curiosity overcoming his anger.

"Yes, though it could do with some improvements" said Harry, looking at his glove critically. "Making it store and redirect magic overloads the rune chain in a few minutes, and any spell that's stronger than an '_Expelliarmus_' causes the runes to explode." Harry unconsciously rubbed his left hand as he reminisced on _that_ incident.

"Quite an invention for your age." said Spectre, handing back the glove, before a frown graced his features. "I fail to see how your gloves and T.G.R. Holdings relate to me, however."

"They've offered me a rather tempting deal, in my opinion. I'm perfectly fine with mincing words and rubbing shoulders with these men, but I'm utterly hopeless at contracts." said Harry. "I've never had the…temperament to bother reading through them."

Spectre crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So you want me to handle them for you."

"Correct," said Harry.

"Are you aware, boy, of just how much you damaged my reputation?" asked Spectre, his tone now decidedly hostile.

"I am," said Harry, raising his hand to stop Spectre from continuing. "and I think you're looking at this the wrong way."

Spectre titled his head at him, as if to ask "How so?"

"How do you think people will react when they hear that I, Harry Potter, the only wizard alive to have ever beaten you at court, asked you to be his barrister?"

"They'd think you were making a mockery out of me." growled Spectre.

"Maybe at first," conceded Harry, "but they'll also realize I'd only do so because I considered you the _best_. Think about it." Harry leaned forward, locking eyes with Spectre. "Why would I hire you if I've shown I could beat you, unless you're _too _good to not hire for a job this important."

Spectre leaned into his chair, a thoughtful look etched onto his face. "You've got a silver tongue, Mr. Potter," he began, "but you've also made a valid point. Let's talk terms then."

"I'll pay you your standard fee, of course, and you'll get a commission if the deal pushes through. Two percent from the down payment for the use of my equation."

Spectre paused. It was a good deal, but he knew he could afford to press his luck. He shook his head. "Double my fee, and I'll reduce my commission to one point five percent." He haggled.

"Double the fee?"

"My honor demands it." He explained with a shrug.

Harry frowned. The point of the commission was to give the man an incentive to make sure his client wasn't getting screwed over in a deal. "Forego the fee, and I'll increase the commission to three percent."

Spectre scoffed. "Forego the fee? I'm not about to take on a deal without even some assurance of payment if the deal doesn't push through. Double my fee, disregard the commission entirely."

"Without a commission, how do I know you won't purposely just screw me over?" asked Harry rhetorically. "_Five _percent commission, no fee."

Spectre hesitated. It was a good counteroffer, provided that the deal actually pushed through. Of course, he had no idea if it would. He wasn't a bloody seer and he refused to take such a risk, and he needed the money to settle some of his outstanding debt. "Double my fee, no commission and an oath."

Harry pondered on it, before speaking. "Agreed."

As they shook hands, Spectre couldn't help but to ask. "Not that it's my concern, but where will you get the money to pay me? It might take some time, after all, before the galleons can be counted, so to speak."

"Lockhart has it covered." said Harry. "One of the many, many stipulations of his community service."

Spectre snorted. "I've read that contract. It sounds more like indenture really."

"Thankfully, the Ministry doesn't have anything against that either." replied Harry.

"True enough." said Spectre, before he sighed. "Lockhart really is a bit daft when it comes to these things, isn't he? Didn't he read the part where you could chuck him back into Azkaban at any time for more or less any reason?"

"He signed the contract without bothering to bargain a little, and believed me when I said it was non-negotiable." said Harry. "That should say plenty of the level of intelligence the man has."

"Indeed…" muttered Spectre, "so tell me, how did you come about this deal?"

"I'm sure you must have read of the Oxford attack in the papers. I was rescued by a man named Augustus, head of security for T.M.R.. He handed me a portkey to meet his boss, and that, as they say, is history."

Spectre scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You took a portkey from a man you just met, to a place you've never been to – alone and without adult consent. That's certainly reckless of you." He chided. "Hasn't your mother ever taught you not to accept candies from a stranger?"

Harry frowned. "That's just it. I felt…_compelled_ to accept the portkey. Half the time, I felt my body move on its own volition." Frustrated, Harry ran his hands over his hair. "Believe me, I knew something was wrong. The way things played out at first, you'd think I was being sent off to join a prostitution ring, or to star in a porno." Harry joked dryly, despite the seriousness of the conversation. "All the physical hints that I was under compulsion were present…except…"

"Except?" pressed Spectre. "Except what?"

"Except nothing showed up in a magical scan." said Harry, perturbed. "I used a rune chain to check myself as soon as I got out of the office. It showed fatigue, physical and magical. It took into account post traumatic stress disorder." Harry sighed. "No sign of compulsion, however."

Spectre frowned. "Runes are an archaic method though."

"True enough." conceded Harry with a nod. "But I got myself checked by Madam Pomfrey, the school Healer, as soon as I reached Hogwarts. She gave me an earful about taking better care of myself." said Harry, a mirthful smirk tugging on his lips. "And when I asked when there was any tampering with my head, you know what she said?"

"No tampering." Spectre supplied unnecessarily.

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" shouted Harry sarcastically, mimicking a bell. "We have a winner."

"Perhaps she got it wrong?"

"She's one of the best Healers in the country." Harry pointed out. "Plus, I even went to St. Mungo's to get myself double checked, just in case. They said the same thing." He massaged his temple. "I've tried everything I could think of to find out what those people did to me. Potions, charms, runes, Healer Checks…nothing shows up! It's driving me crazy."

"Is it possible that you were just incredibly reckless on that day, and in a moment of youthful stupidity, you accepted the portkey?" asked Spectre.

"I'm certain of what I felt." replied Harry, unamused.

"Yet, you still wish to deal with these people after you suspect them of foul play?" asked Spectre skeptically.

"None of the tests showed anything. If I brought it up, they'd deny it of course. The deal they offered me was pretty good, and basically they want to throw money at me for one of my formulas so they can resell it to the Ministry. I'm not sure about you, but I haven't heard of any other companies in the same field as them. So even if they placed some sort of charm on me, it didn't do anything aside from ensure they would get the rights to market my invention earlier, even if they have no competitors. That's what bothers me about the whole thing. They don't seem to have a clear motive."

"I'd like to point out that you've shared this secret with me, a man who has good reason to hate you. I think that you actually were just very reckless, and you're letting paranoia get to you." said Spectre.

"Am I?" mused Harry, looking the man in the eye. "Am I really reckless for telling all this to you, when I know for a fact I'm now covered by a confidentiality agreement. Anything you share to anyone outside this room, without my expressed approval automatically forfeits your life. At least, that's what's written on the sign above the door I just came through. That confidentiality is one of the reasons I chose you, after all."

Spectre raised a brow. "Most people don't notice that."

"I'm not most people." replied Harry. "I may need to brush up on my magical contracts a little, but I know enough that that sign just made it binding on you."

"You're observant, I'll give you that. What is it you want me to do?"

"Find out anything you can while negotiating the finer points of the contract, Mr. Spectre. I'll give a one percent commission on top of your fees as a bonus for this…unorthodox service."

"I'll keep an ear out for anything that might slip." promised Spectre.

* * *

**Great Hall, Hogwarts, February 17, 1994**

"The conquering hero finally returns." said Hannah, taking a seat besides Harry. "Welcome back."

Harry turned away from the apple he was just about to consume to give her a confused look. "I've been back for a week now." He pointed out.

Hannah snorted. "Yeah, but in the past week, you've spent more time outside the school then in it." Her face softened for a second. "Are you alright?"

Harry took a bite from his apple, savoring the flavor as he chewed, before swallowing. "As well as I can be, I suppose." he replied. "Anything interesting happen while I was busy?"

"Without you around, life has been peaceful here." said Hannah, a wry smirk gracing her features. "Just goes to show how society is much better off without having you around. Dumbledore even got around to mentioning another challenge considering how boring things were getting. Where have you been anyway?"

"St. Mungo's mostly," replied Harry, taking note of the worried look on Hannah's face, "the Healer's assure me I'll be fine though, with a little rest. The strange thing is that they want me to go back there later this week so they can run anther battery of tests on me." Harry shook his head. "It's really quite a hassle."

"They just want to make sure that you'll be alright, Harry." said Hannah. "You're practically a celebrity in your own rights nowadays with the amount of publicity you're getting." She handed him a copy of the Prophet. "See for yourself." Harry grabbed it with both hands, his apple now forgotten.

_T.G.R. SUMMIT HOLDINGS INC. TO PURCHASE HARRY POTTER'S INVENTION_

_Lucius Malfoy, head of T.G.R.'s public relations office, announced early this morning of its intention to purchase an as of yet unnamed invention by Harry Potter. _

_Malfoy released a statement along with the announcement. "We plan to integrate this remarkable device as part of T.G.R.'s arsenal in the fight against the Dark Lord's remaining followers. Their latest attack at Oxford Stadium clearly shows that these Death Eaters aren't quite as pacified as we have been led to believe. This incident has convinced us of the need to broaden our offensive gear and this new invention will be the first of many purchases by our company." _

_Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, applauded T.G.R.'s initiative in this matter. "T.G.R. has been a firm and committed ally of the Ministry ever since the outbreak of war against the Dark Lord. They have been the source of much funding and equipment to the DMLE, and the Auror Department especially, in our efforts to contain his followers. I've been invited to see the effects of this gear, and I agree that it will be an excellent addition to the Aurors." _

_The final stages of negotiation are taking place at T.G.R Headquarters in Diagon Alley as lawyers from both parties settle the last few details. Surprisingly enough, Michael Spectre was revealed to be Harry Potter's legal representative in the talks. _

_TGR's History, page 2.  
New Ministry Protocols, page 5._

Harry skimmed through the whole thing without even a flicker of emotion showing. Though uninformed by TGR of the interview, he had expected it to happen as a way to prevent him from backing out. With now two respected individuals backing the deal, he'd be crucified the moment he tried, perhaps even be charged with treason for refusing to aid the government. It had certainly happened before.

TGR wanted his formula, and they wanted it badly. Harry just didn't know what for.

"How many people in Hogwarts have read this?" asked Harry, putting the paper down.

"Everyone" was Hannah's quick reply. "You're the talk of the school now." she informed him, swiveling in her chair so that her back was to the table.

"What are they saying about me?"

"If they're to be believed, you are now, apparently, Merlin incarnate." said Hannah, making no attempts to stifle her own amusement.

"Dumbledore will be disappointed to know that I've stolen the title from him." said Harry, frowning. "Please tell me not everyone believes this ridiculous gossip?" he asked, almost pleaded really.

"It's mostly the third years and lower who think so." said Hannah reassuringly. "Although that doesn't mean that the rest of the school doesn't think more highly of your little toys now." She tilted her head towards his gloves, which were fitted tightly on his hands. "If you didn't have their curiosity the first dozen times you used them, you certainly have it now."

Harry's frown deepened. "Perhaps I should keep these in my trunk in the meantime." said Harry, pulling off his gloves. "I'd rather not give people more reason to pester me about them."

"It's odd that you, someone who's done nothing but garner attention in your short stay here, is now shying away from the same." she commented, eyeing him quizzically.

"Everything in moderation." he answered sagely. "Too much attention is just as bad as too little attention. Case in point, Neville Longbottom." he gestured to the Gryffindor table with his hand.

"I fail to see how he makes a good case."

"Have you seen his grade?" asked Harry critically. "He's flunking half his subjects. The other half he's doing a little better than Goyle!" exclaimed Harry, exasperated. "In fact, the only subject he seems to excel in right now is Herbology."

"Harry…you do realize we are talking about a thirteen year old boy here." she said pointedly. "What did you expect from him?"

"Being at least good at DADA maybe? We are talking about the kid who defeated Voldemort here."

Hannah paused, and stared intently at Harry, her face scrunching up. "Who the bloody hell is Voldemort?"

Harry raised a brow. "Voldemort, the Dark Lord of course. Who did Neville beat when he was a baby? How else did he get his scar except by surviving the killing curse?" explained Harry heatedly.

Hannah shook her head slowly. "Harry, I think your fight did a number on your head." She looked him in the eye. "Neville got his scar by surviving the killing curse, but it was the Dark Lord Lorwick who he vanquished. I'm not aware of any dark lords named Voldemort in the last decade."

Harry's eyes widened. "That's…that's impossible." He muttered to himself. He pushed himself up and hurried away, attracting bewildered looks from those around him.

"Harry! Where are you going?" Hannah called out to his retreating figure, to no avail. "Harry!" she called out, and again there was no response. She stood up to follow him, but by the time she had reached the double doors of the Great Hall, he was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, she made her way back into the hall to eat breakfast, leaving her friend time to sort things out for himself.

Harry Potter did not show up for his classes that morning.

* * *

**Headmaster's Office**

Albus Dumbledore walked, while humming a jaunty tune, up the staircase leading to his office. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he was quite surprised to find it already open. A peek inside the room showed the Headmaster's chair had been turned around so that only a familiar mop of unkempt raven hair was showing. "A student beats me to my own chair in the morning." stated Dumbledore merrily, walking into the room. "Thinking of replacing me already, Mr. Potter?"

Harry swiveled around to face his Headmaster. "Wouldn't dream of it sir. Not with all the problems a Headmaster has to deal with. No, I'd prefer to be on the school board myself. Ruling from the shadows and all that rot."

"An excellent plan, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you'll do quite well as a member of the board in the future. However, I doubt I will retain my post for that long." said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling still. "So what brings you to my office so early in the morning, Harry? Did a teacher send you? Because I must say, it's quite a feat for a student to be sent to the Headmaster's office when classes haven't even started. Even your father and his friends never managed it themselves. This must be some sort of record." Dumbledore looked mildly excited at the prospect.

"I think my mum would kill me if I managed that." replied Harry.

"I take it that's a no then?" asked Dumbledore, his tone a little disappointed for some reason. "What's the matter then?"

"It concerns the Dark Lord, sir." said Harry, leaning closer as if to whisper something in his ear. "In the second year, what _really _happened?" he asked in a low voice.

Dumbledore frowned. "I'm not certain that this is information I should share with you, Harry. You are still young and to burden you with such would by cruel of me. He isn't your problem."

"Yet, he is." retorted Harry. "Like it or not, I'm past a point of no return. He knows of me, and what's more, he seems interested in me. This unwanted attention has made me, and by extension, my family, a target."

"A slight interest, while the cause of concern, does not necessitate drastic action. What you're asking me to tell you will compromise your safety. As your Headmaster, I cannot, in good conscience, allow that to happen."

"Do you know what the point of the Oxford attack was?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid there were no Death Eaters that were captured. The Aurors were unable to determine their objective. All we have to go on is speculation."

"They were after me." stated Harry plainly. "No need to hide it, sir. It's obvious enough. Capture on sight – those were their orders."

"What makes you say so?" Dumbledore stroked his beard in a contemplative manner.

"No lethal spells when fighting me or my family. My dad _only _gets knocked out rather than killed." said Harry, counting them with his fingers. "A foiled attempt to transport him out of the stadium. Death Eaters actively trying to capture me and special effort was placed in trying to find me." He curled his fingers back into a fist. "Those men were definitely after me."

"You've made your point." conceded Dumbledore. "There's not much you wouldn't know about what had transpired. You _did _manage to piece enough together to discover Gilderoy's deception, after all."

"What happened to the diary?"

"Destroyed, by Basilisk venom."

"Did you see it yourself?" pressed Harry.

Dumbledore nodded. "I did. What remained of it was destroyed by fiendfyre, just to be on the safe side."

"Is Tom Riddle the Dark Lord Lorwick?"

Dumbledore paused again, raising a brow at the sudden shift in topic. "He is not, Mr. Potter."

"Then who is Tom Riddle?" he demanded imperiously.

"I dare say you've already met him recently, Harry."

This time, it was Harry's turn to pause. "What?"

Dumbledore nodded. "T.G.R. Thomas Gaunt-Riddle. Or Tom, for short. Quite interesting that he didn't include his middle name, Marvalo and opted for his mother's maiden name instead."

"How is he _not_ in prison." his fist banging onto the desk angrily."That was a hor-horrible," he managed to catch himself from saying 'horcrux', "work of magic. Clearly it was a construct of the dark arts, sir. Why wasn't he chucked into Azkaban?"

He sighed. "At the time, he claimed it was created to be a weapon against the Death Eaters - a way to infiltrate their ranks and destroy them from the inside. It was one of many scrapped projects that were stolen from TGR over the years. An investigation revealed that a Death Eater had planted it in the school."

"Pardon the language sir, but that's a load of bull. It was his persona that opened the Chamber of Secrets. It was _his _persona that possessed Ginny Weasley. What did he have to say to that, sir?"

"The Death Eaters had modified his work, or so he claims. In any case, one must understand that at the time, he was already quite an influential man in his own right and TGR had made a significant contribution in the fight against Lorwick and the Death Eaters. Even if he was responsible, the Minister was quite willing to pardon him for any alleged crimes so pushing the issue would have been moot."

Harry's eyes pierced Dumbledore like a scalpel. "What do you believe sir?"

"His explanation, while dubious, is certainly within the realm of possibilities. Lorwick's followers would have been looking for an opportunity at the time to create a split between the Ministry and TGR, which were beginning to show signs of working more closely together." explained the aged Headmaster. "In any case, TGR has been the subject of many attacks, magical and political. Always a scheme concocted by the Death Eaters."

"You seem to be trying to convince yourself more than me, sir."

"Tom has made some bad choice in life; that much I can see. However, for all his faults, he has done much good as well. Is it so wrong to want to think the best of my own apprentice?" he asked rhetorically. "Perhaps it is. Perhaps it is my pride, or my emotions that cloud my judgment of him." His eyes moistened a little. "I loved Tom like a son." he confessed.

"What happened between the two of you?" asked Harry, sensing that there was more to the story.

"After that incident, I confronted Tom about it. He said that I did not trust him enough and we had an argument. No. To call it an argument would be to call a Nundu a house pet. It was a falling apart. Tom and I didn't speak months. Even now, we barely speak to each other at all, when we were once the closer than kin." Dumbledore reminisced sadly.

Dumbledore stood, and looked at the clock on his wall. "It's getting quite late, Harry, and you've missed your morning classes entirely." he chided. "Your professors will be quite upset with you."

"All I had was Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Considering how my gloves are about to be marketed, I think my professors are more upset I wasn't around to be interrogated rather than attending class itself." said Harry, decidedly apathetic towards the two subjects in question.

"Education is not always something one gains from class lessons. Dealing with these scenarios give you valuable experience to draw on when faced with similar circumstances in the future. Speaking of experiences, have you given any thought to joining the next challenge?"

"I don't think I'd have the time, sir."

"A shame, Harry. I think you might rather enjoy this one. It's a treasure hunt, of sorts, and it will help an adventurous lad like you find something to do in this old castle." said Dumbledore.

"I'll consider it, Headmaster. I'll be going now, sir."

* * *

_Potter,_

_By now you must have read the papers already. The negotiations have been published, and they've basically made it impossible for us to back out now. A clever move really. _

_Still, they've taken away one of our best options yet, which is to simply walk away from the table (if need be) to demand a higher price. Their lawyers are no pushovers. They know what they're doing alright, and trying to pry information from them has been difficult, to say the least. That said, the best we can settle for at this point, by my estimates, will be 60,000 Galleons. In all likelihood though, we'll get 50,000 instead. A quarter of a million muggle pounds ain't a shabby price for your formula. _

_I'll be joining them for drinks later tonight to see if they let anything slip. _

_Spectre_

* * *

**AN: And the Plot Thickens...**

**1) Harry is a little on the edge in this chapter. That is intentional, and I suppose the reason why there's less humor in this chapter. **_  
_


End file.
